The Sanctity of Blood
by sondragonfly
Summary: Raised believing in the Sanctity of Blood and bound by an Unbreakable Vow, Narcissa Black struggles to survive in a world at war, where the man she swore to love and obey is possibly her most dangerous enemy. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Any recognizable situations and characters are the property of J.K. Rowling, etc., and were used without permission. I'm not claiming them as my own nor am I using them for profit. It's Rowling's universe; I just play in it.

**A/N:** So begins the "Great Experiment." I'm not quite sure how this fic will turn out, but I'm hoping for the best. I've been having a lot of free time to write, so I expect to be able to update at a fairly constant rate. If you have any suggestions on how this story should go, feel free to tell me. I'd love to hear it. At any rate, I hope you enjoy.

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"_Keeping wyth the Tradition, 'tis of the Utmost Importance to Unite One's Chyldren togyther only wyth other Pure-blood Famylies, to Insure that the Magikal Essences Housed wythin their Veins are not Diluted by the Filthe of Lesser Mortals…"_

_ - The Sanctity of Blood, 1488_

• • • • • • • •

"She looks nothing like a Black."

Those were my father's first words the moment he laid eyes on me shortly after I was born. My father, not the most trusting of men, quickly performed a Paternum Charm to confirm my parentage. It was no small wonder, his misgivings. My hair was a light blonde, my eyes a pale blue, and my cheeks a rosy pink—a far cry from the raven hair, jet black eyes, and sallow skin of my two elder sisters… as well as every other Black in the past century and a half.

I might not have worn the Black ancestry on my face, but there was no doubt that I carried it in my blood. The tip of his wand burned bright green, confirming that he indeed sired me. Of course he did. My mother may not have been the cleverest witch, but she was far from stupid. She would never have carried a child that wasn't Cygnus Black's to term.

Though growing up I would draw suspicious stares as I stood with my sisters, I did not resent my appearance. I was the beauty of the family precisely because I looked nothing like them. Not to say that my sisters were ugly; far from it, really. The Blacks were known of their dark, stunning good looks. But my beauty was different—delicate and shining—and thus lauded by outsiders.

"You're fortunate," Lucius had always said, "that you don't look a thing like your sisters. Why else do you think I chose you?"

That, of course, was a lie.

I wasn't the first choice when they were picking Lucius Malfoy's bride. Or even the second. Bellatrix—brilliant, brave Bella—was the eldest and was thus given the honor of being the bride of the Malfoy heir. But even at a young age, she was headstrong and difficult, and she flat out refused to be married off in such a demeaning way, especially to a boy three years younger than herself. Bella claimed that when she married, it would be on her own terms; and in those days the would-be bride had veto power in all arranged marriages, much to the disgust of my aunt Walburga.

Naturally, Andromeda was the second choice. Andy was the obedient one, the perfect daughter that would one day be the perfect Malfoy bride and wife. She, like Bella, inherited the striking family features of midnight black hair and pale skin; but that was where their similarities ended. Bella's face was sharp and pointed, where as Andy's was soft and curved. Bella was loud and forceful; Andy was soft-spoken and yielding.

This is reason she agreed to marry a boy she didn't know at six-years-old. That is, she was six when our parents signed the contract that bound her to be wedded into the Malfoys. It wasn't an uncommon practice—childhood betrothals—especially amongst pureblood families. Such alliances ensured the continuation and purity of the line.

Even though I was five, I still remember the day of Andy's betrothal as clearly as if it had been yesterday. That was the day that I first met Lucius Malfoy.

Despite his only being a little boy of six years old, he looked so serious. His long white blond hair was tied back, and his face still held the roundness of youth. There were rumors floating around back in those days that he was part Veela. Though he was beautiful enough to be considered one, I knew that Malfoys wouldn't tolerate that sort of taint in their bloodline.

Growing up, I always thought of Lucius Malfoy, first and foremost, as being Andy's fiancé and therefore ours by right. In my child's mind, no one could or should be closer to the Malfoy heir than the Black sisters. I would get into nasty fights—secretly, of course, as proper pure-blood ladies never fight—defending our claim, hexing any girl whom would dare maintain that Lucius was hers simply because of a fleeting dalliance.

I needn't have bothered, looking back. Lucius Malfoy treated us with civility, but not much else. He tolerated my company only because I was the youngest Black sister and he had a mutual—if grudging—respect for Bellatrix.

Andromeda, I noted, was ignored almost pointedly, as though he was burdened enough by the thought of sharing the rest of his life with her, and he didn't need her to be doting on him throughout school either. This pained me because I adored Andromeda, and a slight on her was a slight on us all. Less altruistically—childishly—I knew that I would be completely devastated if he ever chose to ignore me.

Lucius was handsome, clever, and so popular that he made everyone around him more popular through sheer proximity. Being around him was a heady rush. When I was younger, I loved his attention. It was like the warmth of the sun in the Slytherin dungeon, and everyone sought after it. That is, everyone but Bella and Andy. Bella, because she was much too old to be charmed by Lucius, but Andy….

In reality, Andromeda didn't care a whit about Lucius Malfoy mostly because she didn't care a whit about anything our family stood for. She cared nothing for the sanctity of blood, or the Principle, by which our family lived and breathed. Centuries of glorious pureblood ran through her veins, and she wasted it all on a Muggle-born nobody named Ted Tonks. My perfect, wonderful sister was a blood traitor.

After eloping with that Mudblood, breaking a ten-year-long betrothal and magical contract, and costing my father a thousand galleons because of it, Andromeda was promptly disowned and blasted from the family tree. Mother had our house elves scour and destroy her presence from every family picture, portrait, and record. For all accounts, the Blacks never had a daughter named Andromeda.

I'm not heartless. I wanted to mourn my sister, as though she had died and was lost to us, but I was forbidden. She wasn't a Black anymore—it was as simple as that. Andromeda wasn't just disowned. No, she ceased to exist, and one cannot mourn the death of someone who never existed to begin with.

This is where I come in. Despite two failed attempts at uniting with our house, the Malfoys still wanted a Black bride for their son. They agreed to settle for third best, but really they had no choice. The family fortune may not have been as great as theirs, but Black blood was pure enough to rival their own, and our unyielding devotion to the Principle was indisputable.

Still, they took their own precautions. The penalty for breaking my betrothal would be doubled. The date for the wedding was set on the day after my graduation from Hogwarts, so my chance for escape would be minimal. They would have demanded that I married that summer, but my parents insisted that I finish my schooling first. The Malfoys relented, seeing as their son was still in school as well.

And finally, the Malfoys demanded our betrothal be bound by the Unbreakable Vow. My parents agreed. Their highest ambition was for all their daughters to be respectably married, and since Andromeda had failed them miserably at that, my marriage would have to suffice.

My betrothal ceremony to Lucius Malfoy occurred late in the summer before my sixth year at Hogwarts. Andromeda had run away earlier that same summer, and the Malfoys weren't wasting any more time to secure their son's future wife. It would be a quiet and hurried ceremony squeezed in between the last of the summer balls and the train-ride from King's Cross, with only our immediate family present.

There had been a cry of protest at the use of the Vow to seal the betrothal. Many considered this extra precaution overkill. However, any objections to the use of the Vow, or the possible dire consequences thereof, fell on deaf ears. It didn't matter to me whether the oath I swore to Lucius would be unbreakable or not. This was about family honor. Andromeda had shamed us, and it fell to me to prove the worthiness of our line.

Lucius Malfoy was going to marry a Black whether he wanted to or not.


	2. Chapter 2

"_There are only three duties to which all Pureblood females must be the most attentive. Firstly, she must obey the wishes and demands of her father and, upon her marriage, her husband. Secondly, she must remain chaste and virtuous, having known no man but her husband. And lastly, it is imperative that she birth her husband a son and heir. Above these, there are no higher virtues."_

—_The Proper Practices of Purebloods, 1823_

• • • • • • • •

The morning of the ceremony dawned bright and clear. It would be a lovely day_. So much for emotional landscaping_, I thought bitterly. Despite my willingness to take Andromeda's place, I was not relishing the change. Andy had been given ten years to make peace with being married to Lucius Malfoy. They hadn't give me two months.

Though I had harbored a childhood infatuation for Lucius since I was five years old, those feelings were long gone. Early in my fourth year at Hogwarts, I had accidentally walked in on him mid-tryst. My awe, respect, and admiration for him plummeted after that one fateful glimpse. I knew then that Lucius Malfoy was an unredeemable philanderer, and I hadn't envied Andromeda so much as pitied her.

The fates had a terrible sense of humor.

They dressed me in a white gown and let my long hair fall down my back in soft curls. I grimaced at my image in the mirror. I looked like a little girl. I wondered wryly whether they'd let me run around barefoot and crown me with a wreath of flowers as well.

A sharp rap on the door revealed Bellatrix. The large diamond ring on her finger caught the light and glinted brightly as she came forward to embrace me. She had received a marriage proposal from Rodolphus Lestrange earlier that year, to the rejoicing and relief of our parents. The Lestranges were another well-established family of the Blood, and it was a good match on both sides.

"You look lovely, Cissy," she said, kissing both my cheeks. Looking into her eyes, I knew she was being honest with me for once. I thanked her and returned to my reflection, continuing to brush out my hair. Bella always had an uncanny ability of complimenting that wasn't quite sarcastic, yet not completely sincere either, and one always had to wonder whether her remarks were malicious or not.

"I suppose they're all waiting for me?"

She smirked, running her fingers through my curls. "Well, it's best if you come out sooner rather than later. You know how Father gets in front of Abraxas Malfoy. He acts as if his blood isn't worth dirt, the way he fawns over that insufferable man." It was true; Father did seem to cater to the elder Mr. Malfoy's every whim.

"Bella?" I whispered. "I don't want to marry him."

Bella cocked an eyebrow at me through the mirror, smirking. "You're not marrying him, you silly puffskein. You're marrying his _son_."

I glared at her. "You know what I mean."

She sighed dramatically. "Honestly, Cissy, you're not fun anymore now that our parents are coercing you into a betrothal to an extremely _eligible_ and extremely _coveted_ young bachelor due to the magical contract reneged by our non-existent middle sister. Poor _you_, forced to live in the lap of luxury for the rest of your life!" I smiled against my will at her view of the situation. "Besides," she continued, elbowing me, "I thought you _liked_ Malfoy."

"I did. I was half in love with Lucius when I was younger, back when my undying devotion could be bought with a couple minutes of attention and a few sickles worth of sweets," I said wryly.

"Oh, well, you're in luck, Cissy dear. I hear that Malfoy is more than proficient in handing out _sweets_," Bella teased, coupling her remark with a rather obscene gesture.

"Bella! Behave yourself!" I gasped, swatting at her with my hairbrush. She bounced away from me, still making that lewd motion. "You are such a boy sometimes."

"And you, my dear sister, are a prude. Don't tell me you haven't…" She gasped delightedly at my expression. _"You haven't?"_

I shot daggers at her. "Did you never get the talk about a Pureblood's highest virtue?"

Bella rolled her eyes at me. "Dear Merlin, Cissy. You didn't believe Mother when she spouted all that old-fashioned nonsense, did you?" She clapped her hands ecstatically when she saw my reaction to her question. "You are so quaint," Bella said with a laugh. "Weren't you ever curious?"

I shifted uncomfortably under her intent gaze. "It never really came up—" I saw her wicked grin and immediately changed my direction—"I mean, it was never an _issue_." I felt my cheeks flame. "Nor will it be for another two years," I said resolutely.

"Don't worry, love," she said, patting my cheek. "I'm sure Malfoy will be an excellent and capable teacher. And I'll be a Cornish pixie if he's going to wait two years to sample what's already his."

My skin visibly paled in the mirror. "Let's not talk about such things, Bella," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You're much too innocent for your own good, Narcissa," she replied, but left it at that.

Taking a deep breath, I turned gave my sister a forced smile. "Ready as I'll ever be," I said with fake cheer. She took my hand, in reassurance I suppose, and led me out to the terrace of the Malfoy Manor.

On the terrace under the Altar of Joining, my parents, the Malfoys, a young Ministry Officiator by the name of Cornelius Fudge, and Lucius waited around a pile of neat little cushions. My parents looked anxious; the Malfoys looked annoyed; Fudge looked as nervous as I felt, and Lucius watched me with a sort of mild interest.

Bella gave Lucius the hand she was holding with a look that seemed to say, 'All yours.' He took my warm hand in his cold one. "You look beautiful, Narcissa," said Lucius dutifully.

I murmured my thanks, and he helped me kneel awkwardly on the cushion provided. He smoothly knelt down in front of me, holding up our linked hands between us. Fudge stepped forward, clearing his throat, his short wand extended toward our hands. He was to be our Bonder.

The Unbreakable Vow was very ancient magic. It would magically link the participants into a contract that could never be severed. The penalty for failing to fulfill any one of the three possible stipulations was death. There was no bargaining and no leeway. The Vow must be executed to the letter.

Holding Lucius' right hand in mine, I knew there was no going back. This oath I was about to make would be stronger than the marriage vows they were binding me to. The Unbreakable Vow was not something to be taken lightly. In my life I would only make two of them.

Fudge touched the tip of his wand to our clasped hands and waited. Lucius looked me in the eye, and unwaveringly, I stared back. He nodded to Fudge to begin the ceremony. Our parents had drafted the Vows that I would be bound to and had given it to the Ministry to keep on file. In his tidy black robe, with his wand out but not looking at us, Fudge read off the contract. "Narcissa Galatea Black, do you vow that you will, upon graduating from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, bind yourself to Lucius Damien Malfoy in the state of holy matrimony?"

"This I vow." I was proud of myself not allowing my voice to break, but was strong and clear. Immediately, a thin tongue of fire leapt from the wand and encircled our hands.

Fudge looked up from the parchment nervously, making sure all was well, before proceeding to the next provision. "Do you, Narcissa Galatea Black, vow that you will remain pure and chaste, denying any man but your husband, Lucius Damien Malfoy, knowledge of your body until your wedding day?"

"This I vow." A second glowing tongue escaped from the wand, wrapping itself around the first.

At that moment, Lucius caught my eye, and for an instant I felt as though he was measuring me. I felt his hand tighten just a bit on mine, and I saw a smile curl the corners of his lips.

An eternity stretched out before Fudge continued with the last stipulation. "Do you, Narcissa Galatea Black, in accordance with the Principles of Blood sanctity by which you have been raised, vow to love your husband Lucius Damien Malfoy, and only him, for as long as you both have life within you?"

Upon hearing that last vow, I gasped, unable to control myself. I expected the same outcry from the rest of the group, but turning to them, not one wore any expression other than polite interest, except for Bella was pursing her lips in concern. I was stunned silent, then I realized that I was being foolish. Why would they be shocked or infuriated when they were the ones who had written the Vow?

If this ceremony had been between a couple in love, that vow would have been a romantic gesture. But Lucius and I weren't in love. We were teenagers, bound by filial obedience. We all knew that this wasn't a lover's vow. It was a business contract. This was a wand at the throat and _Avada Kedavra_ on the lips.

"You can't—you can't possibly ask me to make this vow—!" I finally managed to sputter angrily.

My father looked away from me uneasy. "Now, Cissy, you may not understand what we're asking…"

No, I knew exactly what they was asking. I knew, and I could also understand that they knew the impossibility of what they were making me vow. They shifted their eyes away, ashamed, made uncomfortable by my angry stare. They knew _exactly_ what they were asking me to do.

Pureblood marriages are rarely, if ever, performed out of love. Duty, obligation, greed, and pride were the norms. Affection maybe, but not love—never _love_. It was even common practice to have extramarital affairs, as long as you were discreet and you only bore children that were your husband's. To make me vow to love only him was insane, and we all knew it.

I couldn't bear to look at them anymore. My eyes were fixed on Lucius' hand holding mine, the skin across his knuckles white. "This… is _emotional rape_," I breathed.

My father puffed himself up, as if to renew his argument, but to my considerable shock—and by the looks of things, his parents as well—Lucius held up his free hand, silencing my father.

"She's right," he said, to the intense displeasure of his parents. "I refuse to continue with this ceremony unless that final vow is changed.

"It's too late now to rewrite the contract," his father said, looking red and flustered.

"No, the Vow hasn't been sealed yet. I can change the last stipulation if I wish."

Fudge cleared his throat. "Actually, Mr. Malfoy, once written and spoken the Vow cannot be changed. It can, however, be added on to."

Lucius nodded and turned to me, grasping my hand with renewed strength. His eyes boring into mine, he paused a moment before asking, "Do you, Narcissa Galatea Black, in accordance with the Principles of Blood sanctity by which you have been raised, vow to love your husband Lucius Damien Malfoy, and only him, for as long as you both have life within you, proving this love only by vowing to obey any explicit commands he may ask of you?"

I held my breath, my mind toiling over the words in the vow. What would the Vow force me to do? Love him? No, I wouldn't have to _love_ him. It only required that I obey his commands, which ever they might be. I looked up into his eyes. Clearly, as though he were speaking the words out loud, he told me, _Trust me_. But he wasn't begging for that trust—he was _challenging_ me for it.

I grinned winningly at him. Lucius Malfoy could not intimidate me, and I would rather die than prove him right and shame my name. Holding my chin high, I cocked an eyebrow at him and loudly declared, "_This_ I vow."

As the final tongue of fire swept around our hands to merge with its brothers, I could have sworn I saw him smile in satisfaction. The three strands of glowing red magic wove together, faster and faster, encircling our clasped hands like newly forged shackles.

* * *

**A/N:** I've always liked the idea of putting author notes at the end of chapters, so you can get straight to the good stuff and read my ramblings when you're good and ready to. :) Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I debated long and hard what the final stipulation of the Unbreakable Vow would be, and I decided the one I finally settled with (there were around four or five different ones I played around with) will be sufficient to drive the plot.

In anticipation for the question of why didn't Lucius take the Vow either, I must answer that Purebloods are pretty traditional (they still practice childhood betrothals, for Merlin's sake!) and so they don't expect the _men_ to make any sort of promise to the woman. _Women_ are the ones who are supposed to remain faithful and chaste, that's the "proper practice." Our next chapter will take us on the train ride to Hogwarts and more secrets revealed. Stay tuned. :)


	3. Chapter 3

_"Of the powerful and influential magical families in Europe present during the time of the great Michel de Nostredame, only a small handful remain…. The most notable among them being the House of Black… The Potters, the House of Lestrange… And the House of Malfoy, who crossed over to England from France in the late 9th century."_

_—__Magical Pedigree At the Turn of the Century, 1901_

• • • • • • • •

The train whistled sharply of its impeding departure, and I couldn't help but grimace at its shrill cry. Even after five years of train rides, I hadn't become accustomed to it. I wouldn't need to after two more years in any case.

"Topsy, see that Miss Narcissa's trunk is safely on board," Mother told one of the house elves. "Give Mummy a kiss goodbye, Cissy dear." She presented me with a lightly lined face, which I obligingly kissed.

"Goodbye, Mother," I said dutifully, but she had already waved me away.

"Have a good term, dear. Come now, Bella, or we'll be late of Mrs. Malfoy's luncheon." She flounced away in a whirlwind of velvet and fur, leaving a dreamy-eyed Bella behind.

Bellatrix, who accompanied us as an excuse to show off her engagement ring to her former classmates rather than to see me off, quickly snapped out of her reverie and gave me a quick kiss farewell. "Be good," she told me, winking suggestively.

"You're filthy!" I replied, laughing. She blew me another kiss and skipped off after Mother, her distinctive giggles bouncing off the station walls.

"Cissy dear, is it?" a smooth voice said into my ear. I whirled around; half drawing my wand, before I realized whom the voice belonged to.

"_Malfoy,"_ I hissed.

He bowed elegantly. "Miss Black," he murmured. "May I escort you onto the train before it leaves without us?" I looked around and saw that the platform was almost completely deserted and took his proffered hand without thinking. Swiftly, he handed me into the car and jumped up himself right before the train started for Hogwarts.

Once on the train, I attempted to take back my hand, but Lucius still held it in his, an odd expression on his face. "Where's your ring?" I hadn't noticed I had given him my left hand, and I cursed silently for my thoughtlessness.

The Malfoy engagement ring he had given me after the betrothal ceremony was just as impressive has Bella's, if not more. I had felt wrong wearing it, as though I was an imposter and had deprived the real Malfoy bride her finery. Lucius had insisted—_commanded_, really—that I wear it, so I couldn't just chuck it into a safety box somewhere and forget about the damn thing.

Instead of wearing the ring on my finger, however, I wore it on a long gold chain around my neck, whispering a safety charm so it wouldn't break and be lost. It hung heavy between my breasts, thumping against my chest when I walked. It served as a constant reminder of who I belonged to now.

Wordlessly, I pulled out the chain and showed him.

"Did you charm it?"

I gave him a disgusted look. Did he think I was a child? "Of course. Protective charms on the ring _and_ chain. I'm not going to lose it."

"Why aren't you wearing it on your finger?" His face had lost that odd, strained expression, and now he simply looked curious.

I shrugged, looking away from him. "I'm not Bella," I said, as if that explained everything. Strangely enough, the answer was sufficient for him, and he let the topic go looking somewhat mollified.

Lucius did not release my hand after that confrontation, as I thought he would, but instead led me down the length of the car. "I hope you don't mind," he said over his shoulder, "but I had the house elf bring your trunk to my compartment." His tone made it perfectly clear that he didn't care a jot whether I minded or not.

The childish part of me was astounded and somewhat exhilarated by his attention and the brazen way he took command of me. It was the type of thing I fantasized about as a little girl. The more mature, reasonable me—the side I usually agreed with—was incensed that he was leading me about, not considering my feelings or if I had my own friends that I wanted to sit with.

Still, it _was_ quite gratifying to see curious and jealous faces peering into the corridor from the various compartments. It was like being a celebrity. I wondered what they were thinking as they watched the infamous and desirable Lucius Malfoy walk down half the train (or so it seemed to me) with the unattainable and equally desirable Narcissa Black. The attention was intoxicating.

I was hard-pressed not to grin like an idiot.

At last we came to our compartment, and I felt the unfamiliar thrill of apprehension shoot through my body. It was only at that exact moment did I realize just who would be sitting within the magically opaque windows. This was the compartment reserved solely for the eldest of each great Wizarding house. It was Slytherin's innermost circle: the students who ran every aspect of the Slytherin House—the Primori.

The Wizarding community, though ranging the globe, does not command the vast numbers the Muggles do. In Britain, the Muggles number—_dreadfully_—into the millions. We number only in the thousands. Thus, the upper crust of Wizarding society know each other by name, if not by face; and the scions of each of the greatest Wizarding families usually found themselves in the House of Slytherin with only a few notable exceptions. It was inescapable, really, that the Primori or some other type of elitism would form.

Salazar Slytherin himself secretly established the Primori in the years before his departure from Hogwarts. Within the bowels of Hogwarts Castle, he covertly mentored a group of the purest and most promising to continue his beliefs of blood sanctity. This group was so secretive that even centuries after its founding, the only chance one had of possibly hearing of the Primori was if one was in Slytherin, and even then, it was never permissible to openly talk of their existence. Indeed, if you weren't a member of the Primori there was no reason to; and if you _were_ one of the Primori there was no need to.

The Primori's power with the Slytherin House was absolute and all-encompassing. No House decisions, trivial or major, ever occurred without their approval, from deciding who played on the House Quidditch team or deciding the proper punishment for the numerous unwritten rules of Slytherin. Had Andromeda stayed in school, she would have been judged by the Primori—and judged harshly. She would most likely have suffered a student-imposed exile; she would still live within the Slytherin House—it was required, students could not be re-Sorted—but she would not be part of it in anyway. Blood treason demanded no less.

Blood purity was the dominant factor in membership; apart from that, if you were sufficiently wealthy, clever and attractive, one of the eight seats would be reserved for you. There never was a formal initiation either. If you fit the criteria, during your sixth or seventh year—as availability permits—you would suddenly find yourself in the compartment with the seven other members.

Some families, like the Malfoys, would have a seat reserved for them that was passed down from generation to generation. The Blacks, noble and pure, always had a seat within the Primori. There were instances in the past where a sitting member of the Primori would be ousted to make room for a more prominent heir that came of age to take the seat. Bellatrix was the most recent example of this. When she became a sixth year, she had usurped seventh year Nathaniel Borgin who barely qualified to begin with.

In past generations, there had been as many as three Blacks seated simultaneously during a two year period. And now, with Bellatrix's graduation and Andromeda's disgrace, the Black seat had fallen to me.

The men stood at my entrance, in keeping with the old tradition of assumed chivalry. I felt Lucius' hand at the small of my back. "Narcissa, this is Tom Avery, Barty Crouch," he introduced them, and they each bowed slightly in turn. "You know Rabastan Lestrange"—my future brother-in-law came forward grinning and gave me a kiss on the cheek—"and Evan Rosier"—a cousin on my mother's side—"And Hester Bulstrode and Cressida Yaxley." I nodded to them all, smiling politely. "Everyone, this is Narcissa Black." He turned to me, not quite smiling. "My fiancée."

I heard breaths being drawn through teeth at this pronouncement, but each face was still impassive though the tension in the room became decidedly thicker. Out of the corner of my vision, I saw more than a couple pairs of nervous eyes dart quickly to Cressida, whose beautiful smile seemed plastered on her face.

Poor girl, she must have been Lucius' latest dalliance. Perhaps she thought now that Andromeda was a social pariah, she would rocket to the top of his marriageable list. I couldn't help the smirk that I felt blossom on my lips. Guess again, Cressida.

I could tell from the carefully masked faces of the others in the compartment that my induction into the Primori was not insignificant. I had caused major political shifts. Even though I was younger than most of the other members—only Rabastan was my age—I was also engaged to their de facto leader. Unwittingly, I became their alpha female, a role Cressida Yaxley had probably claimed for herself in the two years since Bellatrix vacated the position.

"If you'll excuse me, ladies…" Lucius raise my hand to his lips, lingering there. He was either oblivious that he deposited me in a hostile environment, or he didn't care. I guessed it was the latter. "We men have business to attend to." He nodded to Hester and Cressida and swept from the compartment. Avery, Crouch, Rabastan, and Rosier filed out after him, each giving me an apologetic nod. I sat down across from the two frigid girls who linked their arms together as if in defense.

Cressida and Hester were both seventh years, so I didn't know them that well. We knew each other by reputation, of course, and being a part of Lucius Malfoy's set, albeit until this year—this very day, really—I was only on the fringes of it.

"They never tell us what they do," Cressida sniffed before I could even ask her. She had seen my gaze lingering on the now closed door, and assumed that my look was of curiosity rather than the wish to go with them. "You can assume that whatever business they're up to isn't Primori business."

"They have these meetings often then?" I asked, grateful for something to talk about that didn't directly involve my engagement to Lucius.

Cressida shrugged delicately. "Often enough," she answered vaguely.

"I've heard them whispering in darkened corners," Hester added mysteriously. "They say that even as we speak, a powerful wizard is gathering followers."

I had heard this rumor, too. Over the past year, I've been hearing snippets of conversations about a great wizard who supported the Principle and, unlike the many who have come before him, was also willing to take decisive action.

"Are they thinking of joining him?" I asked, trying to appear nonchalant. They looked at each other and shook their heads. I didn't know if they couldn't tell me, or _wouldn't_ tell me. "Is it only men at those meetings?" I tried again.

"When she was with us, Bellatrix also attended the meetings," Hester replied, shrugging. She narrowed her eyes at me. "How long have you been engaged to Lucius Malfoy?"

I knew this line of questioning was inevitable. "Barely a week," I told them truthfully. I saw no point hiding it from them, though I was loath to make it public knowledge.

Cressida glared at me—the first sign of aggression I saw in her. "And is it true your sister Andromeda—!"

I cut her off coldly. "You must be mistaken. I have no sister by that name."

They both nodded gravely and let the matter rest, satisfied with my answer. Each of us knew that their own families would have responded to such blood treason in the exact same manner.

Stupid, stupid Andy. She would have been here instead of me, finishing her last year at Hogwarts had she not runaway. Yet, even if she had come back to school, she would never be accepted by her fellow Slytherins now that she had been disowned—a blood traitor. She was lower than a Mudblood because she knew better. I pushed the painful thought away, and turned the conversation to more mundane topics.

At eleven-thirty I had a brief respite from the two girls when I left the compartment to meet the Head Boy and Girl with the other Slytherin prefects. I was almost late to the meeting and received glares from the other students. We were missing one girl and with a pang, I suddenly remembered why; everywhere I went I was reminded of Andromeda. I noticed that Lucius and Rabastan were already seated. Rabastan gave me a friendly grin, but Lucius merely nodded at me.

The meeting was brief; they simply told us to watch out for our Housemates, and make sure that people were getting off the train in an orderly fashion and into the carriages or boats, as needed. It was the same set of instructions I had heard the year previous, and would probably hear again next year. Then a slip of paper was passed around bearing the password for the common room.

I glanced briefly at the slip before passing it along. Whoever came up with the passwords were not very imaginative. It seemed that every year, the password rotates between "tradition," "purity," "blood sanctity," "ancestry," or "pureblood." This month it was "purity."

We were dismissed from the meeting, and I dragged my feet back to the compartment where Cressida and Hester waited. The meeting had barely lasted half an hour, and I didn't enjoy the prospect of sitting alone with those two for the rest of the seven-hour ride to Hogwarts.

Waiting outside the door, I took a deep breath to try in an attempt to brace myself against them for the next few hours. Suddenly Lucius' silky voice beside me whispered, "Experts agree that the best way to defeat gorgons is to avoid eye contact, quickly severing the heads from their bodies."

I laughed at this advice, but when I turned to thank him, he was already gone.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading and advanced thanks for reviewing! Did everyone get a chance to read Deathly Hallows yet? It was amazing and heartbreakingly sweet. No more shall be said of it. I only brought it up to reassure my readers that my future chapters won't spoil DH for you if you haven't yet read it. And you wonder how I could put DH spoilers in a Narcissa/Lucius fic? Oh, it _can_ be done. I'm just not that cruel. Anyway, our next chapter takes us to Hogwarts! As indicated by the schedule, the next chapter should be up next Friday. I've already written the next three chapters, so I will be keeping up with the deadline of posting once a week. Happy reading, all!  



	4. Chapter 4

"_Slytherins prize purity, cunning, ambition—  
__The gaining of power is this House's true mission."_

—_The Sorting Hat, 1971_

• • • • • • • •

The men returned hours later it seemed, long after the strained conversation between Hester, Cressida, and I had ceased. The two girls across from me whispered conspiratorially with each other while I, acutely aware of every hiss and gesture, pretended to either sleep or read. It was not a comfortable ride in any sense of the word, and the men's reappearance was most welcome.

"So were heads rolling?" Lucius murmured in my ear. Despite my annoyance at him for leaving me with those two, I couldn't help but smile at his remark.

"Unfortunately, no. As soon as they started talking, the only life I wanted to end was my own." That raised a chuckle out of him. I don't know why it pleased me so much to hear it.

With the men's return, conversation flowed easily, and I realized that even if most were the heirs of their house, they were also boys who joked around just as much as those who weren't bound by familial obligation to act like miniature adults for most of the time. All of them were quite animated, reciting their exploits over the summer for the entertainment of the others. Once in a while, they would cast furtive glances at Lucius to see if he was enjoying the tale.

It seemed that they sought Lucius' approval by unconscious habit; not unlike the way my father acted around the elder Mr. Malfoy. It was an uncommon talent they had, the Malfoys, of gaining the undying admiration and respect of weaker-willed men.

Before long a whistle signaled the train's approach to Hogsmeade Station, and we quickly changed into our school uniforms. The train came to a gentle stop, and Lucius led me out onto the platform, handing me out of the train with a firm hand on my elbow. Casting a _locomotor _charm on our trunks, he guided me through the swarm of students on the platform.

"First years!" I heard a voice cry out. "First years this way!" The din of the platform—students talking and laughing; luggage, trunks, and bags crashing onto each other and the floor; screeching of caged owls and mewling of cats—quickly overpowered the voice, and it was lost in the sea of cacophony.

As prefects, Lucius and I were supposed to attempt to organize to the whole affair, at least for our House. Leaving the task up to the others, we simply ignored the chaos and made our way to the carriages waiting patiently outside.

A quartet of third years—Hufflepuffs by the look of their robes—was already at the available carriage. One icy glare from Lucius, however, sent them and their baggage scurrying. As he put me in the carriage, Rabastan magically appeared out for the throng, as well as Hester and Cressida, much to the obvious displeasure of Lucius. They all climbed aboard, and we five made our way to the castle. Arriving there, we left our trunks in the Entrance Hall for the house elves to organize and deliver to our respective dormitories and filed into the Great Hall.

Despite us having left the station quickly in my option, the Hall was already half way full with students. I scanned the Slytherin table and caught the eye of my best friend Audrey Burke. Her eyes lit up in recognition, and she beckoned me to sit next to her. Unfortunately, Lucius still had control of my arm, not having released it as he helped me off the carriage, and I could do nothing but shake my head helplessly at her.

To my horror, Lucius decided to move down the table toward Audrey. Silently, the rest of us followed. I, myself, didn't have a choice. He approached Audrey and the group she was sitting with. "These seats are taken," he informed them.

Audrey and the others opened their mouths to protest, but quickly shut them when they realized whom exactly they were about to address. Without a word, but with many dirty looks cast in our direction, the group grudgingly made way for us to sit down. I felt Audrey's eyes on me, but I kept my head down and avoided her stare.

Over the next few minutes, the rest of the students made their way into the Great Hall. Avery, Wilkes and Crouch found us and clambered over students, benches and a table to take their place next to Lucius. Finally the noise died down as the Sorting Hat was brought out to sing its song and the Sorting of the first years commenced.

"Abbott, Richard!" called out Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration teacher and Deputy Headmistress. A timid, curly-haired boy walked the length of the Great Hall and sat on the stool, the Sorting Hat falling over his head and face down to his elbows.

"_Hufflepuff!"_ the Hat announced quickly, and the Hufflepuff table cheered as the Abbott boy joined their ranks grinning proudly. The Slytherins around me smirked.

"Belby, Michael!"

"_Ravenclaw!"_ At this point, I was already beginning to lose interest in the whole affair and turned back toward the table where Avery and Wilkes were casting charms on their silverware to make them dance. I quickly snapped back to attention when I heard the name, "Black, Sirius!" The other Slytherins looked up in anticipation.

Strutting down the Hall with an easy grin on his face was my younger cousin. It didn't even occur to me that he would be starting Hogwarts this year. The Sorting Hat was placed over his head, and I grimaced in anticipation.

Sirius Black, though bearing the name and dark visage of our ancestors—which was more than I could say for myself—did not think like us. He openly opposed our values and traditions, much to the wrath of Aunt Walburga, whose pride and joy was my even younger cousin Regulus. Sirius was tolerated because he was still the eldest and apparent heir of the main Black line. In short he was a rebellious, trouble-making, prankster who had the makings of a blood traitor.

It was not a surprise to me when after a moment of contemplation, the Sorting Hat announced with a hint of surprise, _"Gryffindor!"_

A buzz of conversation erupted at the announcement and even the professors looked astonished. I felt more than a few eyes turn to me, and I willed my face not to burn with shame for my cousin. There has never been a Black that wasn't a Slytherin. Even my Mudblood-loving traitor of a former sister had been a Slytherin.

This would not bode well for our family.

• • • • • • • •

Another shock the Slytherins received that night was the loss of the Potter heir. A distant cousin of mine (but then again, who wasn't?) the Potters were wealthy and pureblood. A perfect candidate for Slytherin. When he was Sorted into Gryffindor, it came as quite a disappointment.

"The Potters are gone in the way of blood traitors," I heard Cressida snipe to Hester under her breath. "Just like the Weasleys. People would rather be traitors than remain a Black." The Weasleys were second cousins, once removed.

"A disappointing year," Lucius said, clicking his tongue, watching the huddle group of terrified looking first years. I didn't blame them; they were in for a tough year. Where in other Houses, first years were accepted unquestioningly, the Slytherin House still required that they proved themselves. Some did not live up to the task of being a Slytherin, and it was not unknown to have students drop out of Hogwarts to be either privately tutored, or enter immediately into a trade school to learn how to clean lavatories or some other demeaning task.

Being a Slytherin was not for the faint of heart. _And it's the Gryffindors who pride themselves on being courageous_, I sneered,_ when in Slytherin it takes courage _and_ cunning to merely survive the school year._ If one had cunning and ambition, one could be courageous as needed and make it through the school year. To be truly successful in Slytherin, however, one must also to be charming and brilliant—gifts that only a few of us possessed. Those select few were probably the ones you would see gracing the compartment of the Primori.

Dumbledore, the dotty Headmaster of Hogwarts, made a short, inane speech that made the entire Gryffindor table reel with laughter. Idiots, all. Then, with a wave of his hand, the food appeared before us and the feasting began.

The Slytherin House made its way down to the common room as the clock struck nine. Sneaking away, I ordered a second year to make a slight detour and owl a letter home for me. Errand accomplished, I made my way through the winding dungeons. The feast may have been over, but the Slytherins were only just beginning our celebration for the new school year.

A few of the younger prefects rounded up the first years to lead them down into the labyrinth like corridors of the Hogwarts dungeons. Left, right, right, left, right, left, or was it right? I couldn't tell anyone, on pain of death, exactly how to get to the Slytherin common room, but after five years my body knew the route by instinct. I imagine that if I had to come back to Hogwarts after years of absence, I would still be able to get to the blank stone wall that slid open to reveal the passageway into the Slytherin House.

Most people believed that the Slytherin House was located underneath the lake, but that wasn't entirely true. The common room jutted directly into the lake, nestled against the cliff wall, and a wide overhang, one hundred feet below the surface. The skylights on the ceiling of the common room allowed some light to shine through from the water, and wavering beams of light danced on the stone floors of the common room.

I always imagined the Slytherin common room to be the grandest of all the other Houses, since Salazar Slytherin was known to demand the best. The long narrow common room was lined with sage-tinted marble columns around which silver snakes were wrapped. Bright green orb-shaped lamps hung from the ceiling on silver chains. Numerous forest-green leather chairs, couches, chaise lounges, and ottomans filled the room, occasionally grouped together around dark wood tables. A huge fire roared beneath an elaborately carved mantle piece. On each side of the fireplace stood a stone basilisk, which guarded the two dormitories. The basilisks would block students from descending into the dormitories of the opposite gender.

Rabastan waved at me from his place by the fireplace, gesturing for me to join him. Having the whole House submerged in water made for a rather chilly common room and the seats by the fireplace were the most coveted. As Primori, we had first rights to any seat we wanted, and these were usually the ones we occupied. Most of the younger students already knew of this unspoken rule and never bothered to try for these seats to begin with.

The others were already seated next to the fireplace when I took my place among them. Lucius slid down to make room for me beside him, thus earning me a nasty look from Cressida. As soon as I sat, loud music began to play. Chairs and couches were pushed against the walls, and tables were soon covered with all sorts of prohibited items.

Handles of firewhiskey, bottles of cheap wine, and flagons of all sorts of alcoholic beverages were loosed from their anti-theft, charm-protected, and invisible hiding places and shared with the group. A more responsible student passed around bottles of butterbeer for the younger crowd. House elves appeared carrying trays of empty goblets and egg-sized glasses, ready to be used; as well as the ever-popular anti-hangover draught to be consumed later before bed.

Lucius poured a generous dollop of firewhiskey into one of the little glasses the elves were passing around, and held it out to me. I hesitated for just a moment before I took the glass from him. He poured himself one, and toasted me, throwing back the shot. I followed suit and felt the clear liquid burn as it went down. My eyes began to water. _No wonder they called it firewhiskey_, I thought. I held out the glass for him to take, but instead he poured me another. I drank that one too, and my vision began to blur. I dropped the glass, which fell to the carpet and rolled away, unharmed. A goblet was pressed into my hands, which I sipped at as the night wore on.

Soon the common room grew warm with the crush of bodies, despite the chill of the cool August night. Raucous laughter filled the room, as stories and jokes were shared. I saw couples secluded in dark alcoves all along the perimeter of the room, and no one paid them any mind. My cheeks and ears were burning, and I couldn't help but press the coolness of my free hand against them, marveling at the temperature differences. Even Lucius' pale skin was flushed red, and he was laughing more than I'd ever seen him.

My head was growing increasingly heavy, and I laid my face against the cool leather surface of the couch. The green orbs were unusually bright, I noticed, and I felt my eyelids start to close. It was a struggle to keep them open.

I giggled as Rabastan's face floated into view. "Cissy, are you all right?" he asked laughing. "Merlin's beard, Lucius! How much did you give her?"

I heard the frown in Lucius' voice. "Not that much. Two or three shots at the most. Though I don't know who gave her that goblet or what's inside it." He took it from me and sniffed the contents, grimacing.

"That's mine!" I pouted angrily. I hiccuped and slid halfway out of my seat. Confused, I looked down at my body. I was telling it to sit up straight, and it wouldn't obey me. I hiccuped again and landed on the floor.

"We're cutting you off, young lady." Lucius picked me up under the arms and dragged me, quite undignified, up onto the seat. The others laughed. He looked amused now. "Narcissa, was this your first time drinking firewhiskey?"

Guiltily, I nodded and hiccuped again.

Rabastan laughed. "And you're so tiny! No wonder you're sloshed, Ciss."

"I'm not tiny!" I argued. "I'm almost as tall as you!" I tried to stand up to show them, but Lucius held me down gently but firmly.

"Cissa, he simply meant that you're very slender, and your body can't handle alcohol well. Especially since this is your first time drinking hard liquor." When I hiccuped violently once again, and slid half off the seat, Lucius decided it was time for me to go to bed.

Without giving me time to form any protest—not that I could, in my condition—he scooped me up in his arms and marched to the girls' dormitories, stopping in front of the stone basilisks. "Rab, do you mind?" he indicated the statue. Rabastan shot it a simple _confundus_ charm, and it immediately slithered out of the way.

I was vaguely aware of Lucius descending to the second level where the sixth year girls' dormitory was located. I did, however, undeniably hear Audrey's terrified shriek: _"You can't be in here!"_

"Quiet down, Burke. I have Narcissa. She's had too much to drink. Which bed?" Audrey must have pointed because I didn't hear her response. Lucius deposited me gently into the bed that smelled faintly of my perfume, and I could barely keep my eyes open.

"_Accio, draught!"_ I heard Lucius mutter, and after a few seconds I felt a cold goblet against my lips. "Drink this so you won't feel like death tomorrow." Obediently, I drank. It tasted like mint julep.

"Good night, Cissy dear," I heard Lucius whisper. I thought I felt his lips brush against my forehead, but that could have been the beginning of a dream. I was already asleep by the time he closed the bedcurtains.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you all for reviewing and for your encouraging comments. On the latest chapter of another fic of mine called "No One But Us," (Draco/Pansy), I've posted a mini-essay based on the Malfoys in the last book of the HP series. However, I advise you don't read it if you haven't read the last book yet, as it contains spoilers. I loved Narcissa in the Book 7... she's so Slytherin! Anyways, I'll see you all next week. Happy reading! 


	5. Chapter 5

"_Advanced magical learning should be reserved for the males of Wizarding society. What need have women to learn anything but simple household spells when they will invariably rely on their husbands to complete all but the most basic of tasks?"_

—_Professor Humphrey Ward, "A Treatise On the Dangers of Feminine Magic," 1792_

• • • • • • • •

"Ugh…" I turned away from the light streaming into my bed.

"Serves you right for drinking so much," Audrey said unmercifully, but letting the bedcurtains fall back into place. "And for leaving me for your new friends."

I sat up and drew back the curtains. "They're not my friends. Well, Rab is, but not the others."

"They were looking very friendly with you last night," she said, a hint of bitterness in her voice.

"I know," I replied, "but I have no choice. They're the Primori… _I'm_ one of the now."

"So that means you can't talk to me at all, or eat meals with me?"

"What are you talking about? Of course I can!" I frowned. "It's just that Lucius…" _Is extremely possessive._

"Is a prat," she finished for me.

I laughed. "Yes, he is. But he's a prat that runs the House, so I have to do what he says. So maybe not breakfast and dinner, but lunch definitely. And almost all of our classes, probably. And we always have this dormitory."

Audrey seemed somewhat placated by this idea, but still said, not looking at me, "The Primori changes people, Cissy."

I got out of bed and made my way to her. Audrey and I had been together since first year. I wasn't just going to give that up, I assured her. "Best friends," I said, hugging her fiercely.

She laughed. "Best friends, all right. But I must say, Cissa, as a friend, that you need to take a bath."

• • • • • • • •

_Dearest Cissy_, I read,_ whoever told you that I was part of any secret meetings or dealings with dark wizards is obviously insanely jealous of me and is filling your head with rubbish. Put it from your mind at once and concentrate on your schooling. Also, it was unfortunate hearing about our dear cousin. He sent our aunt a letter of his Sorting as soon as he happened, and as you can expect, she was not at all pleased. At least she still has one son that's worthy to be called a Black. I am well, as is Mother and Father. They send their congratulations on your continuing the family tradition by taking up your seat in the compartment. Enjoy your first day of classes and give my best to my future brothers._

I should have known she would be no help at all. I crumpled the scrap of parchment Bella's message was scribbled on, whispering, "Incendio!" under my breath to get rid of the evidence. Lucius turned from his conversation to give me a curious look. "Just a letter from my sister," I explained innocently. "She sends her regards. And to you too, Rab." Rabastan grinned, looking up from the decimated breakfast in front of him.

"So how you feeling this morning, Ciss?" asked Rabastan, his eyes glittering with amusement.

"Very well, thank you," I replied succinctly. He and Lucius both laughed, and I tried fighting the blush I felt creeping to my cheeks. I had been… irresponsible last night, and I vowed to myself that it wouldn't happen again.

The bell rung for morning classes, and students slowly shuffled to their feet to exit the Great Hall. Lucius and the rest of the boys made a big show of standing and gathering their books. Most of his gang having turned seventeen, they used any excuse to perform the smallest bit of magic. As the Great Hall emptied, the sixth and seventh years being the last to leave, muttered curses and cries of "Just one more year…" filled the air.

At the doorway, Lucius had turned to me, bending slightly to kiss my cheek. Quite naturally but quite on accident, I had turned my head toward him, as though to accept the kiss on the lips. I froze, shocked at my body's response to his proximity, and quickly focused straight ahead, refusing to look him in the eye. He chuckled and kissed my cheek as he had intended. "Have a good first day, _Cissy dear_," he teased, using my pet name, and sauntered off to class, his usual entourage and a group of twittering girls in his wake.

"It's hard to compete with that," Rabastan said, sighing dramatically, though I sensed he was more serious than joking. He had witnessed the whole episode, to my complete and utter embarrassment. "Don't worry; I won't mention to anyone that the famously cold and aloof Narcissa Black, our Slytherin Ice Princess, has been melted by the House golden boy, no less."

I pushed him playfully. "You needn't be hung up over it. The cards really _are_ stacked ridiculously in his favor," I said with mild distaste.

He handed my book bag, which I had dropped during the whole Lucius episode, and together we walked toward the dungeon to Professor Slughorn's office. All sixth years on their first day of term were required to meet with their Heads of House to discuss career paths and choose subjects we would continue with for the next two years.

"Lucius Malfoy is invariably the one person every girl wants to be _with_ and every man wants to _be_," Rabastan continued cynically.

"Though in fairness, it's not hard to see why," I replied thoughtfully. "Smart, handsome, rich, one of the Primori…"

Rabastan grimaced. "Well, don't you go overboard trying to cheer _me_ up, Cissy. I might get a big head with all your flattery."

I laughed and reached over to ruffle his hair. "You are not so bad yourself, Rab. Rich, handsome and smart. You'll fall right into place once Lucius graduates and the girls will be swooning all over you, mark my words."

"Is that why you agreed to marry him?" he asked, suddenly serious.

I looked away from his searching eyes. "I—I had no choice, Rab." _I'm saying that a lot today_, I thought wryly. "Andy left and it all fell to me, you know that. I'm marrying Lucius because I _have_ to." I didn't mention the Unbreakable Vow. No one but Lucius' and my immediate family knew the betrothal was _that_ binding.

Rabastan grabbed my hand, and we paused in the middle of the corridor, letting the rest of the Slytherin sixth years proceed without us. He let my hand fall to my side and ran his own nervously through his hair. "Cissy… I wanted you to know… _I_ would have offered for you—asked you to marry me, if I'd known." He shrugged boyishly. "Then at least you would have had a choice."

His bold claim was touching, and I felt my heart melt at his words. Rabastan was one of my best friends, ever since we sat next to each other on the train to Hogwarts on our first year. Taking back his hand and smiling, I reached up to kiss his cheek. "Thank you," I whispered sincerely.

"_Now what do we have here?"_

We both jumped apart, startled at the voice echoing down the hallway.

"Could it be…? Yes, it is. My _perfect_ cousin Narcissa." It was Sirius, apparently lost in the middle of the dungeons, probably looking for his Potions class. Despite being eleven years old, he had all the impudence of a child half his age. "What will poor Aunt Druella think when she finds out that her perfect little Cissy is kissing men in abandoned corridors while she's engaged to be married to an eligible, rich Pureblood?" He had a wicked gleam in his eye.

Beside me, I could sense Rabastan getting angry. He reached for the wand at his side, but I stopped his arm. I grew up with Sirius; I knew exactly how to handle him.

"For all your self-righteous Gryffindor touting, little cousin, I have to admit I'm impressed." I talked slowly as I walked toward him, allowing my words to ring off the stone walls. "If you tattle on me, you're proving that you are just as conniving and backhanded as a Slytherin. I should have known that Blood will out. _Every time_. In fact, I'm a little bit proud of you. Perhaps we should ask Dumbledore to make sure the Sorting Hat hasn't made a mistake." By now, I was right in his face. "Because you are just… like… us." I tapped the end of his nose and smiled.

His face flushed red, and he hit my hand away. "I am _nothing_ like you!" he snarled, fumbling for his wand. But Rabastan was faster and had his own at Sirius' throat as soon as I stepped away. Sirius' wand was gripped uselessly at his side.

"Watch where you point that thing," Rabastan said coldly. He revealed his prefect badge. "Now get to class, or I'll have you serving Saturday detentions for the rest of the term." This was obviously beyond his power to do, but Sirius believed him in any case. Muttering obscenities under his breath, he put his wand away and retreated down the hall. "Oh, and five points from Gryffindor!" Rabastan called back him as an afterthought.

"Masterful," I commended, chuckling. With a gracious bow, he extended his arm, which I took, and we continued down to Slughorn's office.

• • • • • • • •

Professor Slughorn did not like me. It was only fair, considering I didn't like him one bit either. I thought him crude in manner and speech; grasping at the fame and riches of others; collecting favors like Famous Wizards cards. He may have thought himself a true Slytherin but his blood, pure as he may have _alleged_, was new and untested. Worse of all, he favored Mudbloods as equally as Pure.

The reason _he_ didn't like me was because, despite his constant invitations, the Blacks as well as Malfoy or any of the Primori refused to associate with him outside of school. In his attempts to win me over, he once claimed connections to the highest branches of the Ministry. I told him quite plainly that the connections my family _already_ had were extensive and predated his own meager acquaintances. Best of all they didn't require me having to cater to the whims of a spoiled old fool of a man. The invitations stopped coming after that talk.

But he was our Head of House, and I had to show some modicum of respect for his authority over us students. At that moment, he was reviewing my OWL scores with obvious delight. "Very impressive, Miss Black! Nothing lower than an E on all your subjects, and you even managed to pull off an O in the fine and venerable art of Potions!"

I stared at him blankly, and his enthusiasm quickly diminished. The grin he wore slid off his fat face. "As for your classes this year," he continued, nonplussed, "with your test scores, any teacher would be pleased to accept you into their NEWT level classes. What exactly were you planning on doing after you graduated?"

"After graduation, I plan on getting married, Professor."

Slughorn looked flustered at my answer. "I meant as a career, Miss Black. With your test scores you could get a job anywhere—do anything you wanted!"

"I won't need a job once I'm married," I told him honestly. "My fiancé and I are both extremely wealthy. We could live comfortably without an income for centuries."

He gulped. "And who—might I ask—is your intended?"

"Lucius Malfoy."

"I…see." He shuffled the papers around his desk. "Why don't you just continue the subjects you're interested in, then?" he suggested, not looking me in the eye.

"Write this down," I told him. "I'll take Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, and Herbology." I couldn't hide the amusement in my voice.

"You'll need two more classes to make a full course load," he said meekly. "How about Astronomy?"

I scoffed. "Star gazing is for romantics, Professor."

"Muggle Studies?" he offered. "Well, by the look on your face, I'm going to go ahead and cross that off the list." He appeared almost frightened of me, which I enjoyed very much. "You're—you're one of _them_ now, aren't you? One of the Primori." He didn't look me straight in the face, but had his head down and was peering at me through hooded eyes. I inclined my head in acknowledgment. "Of course," he murmured to himself, "I should have expected it." It was common knowledge that Slughorn was never part of the Primori during his years at Hogwarts, and that it irked him excessively.

"You may add Arithmancy and Ancient Runes to the schedule," I said finally, not wishing to extend the meeting any longer.

"Are you sure?" he asked frowning at my schedule. "Those classes, especially at NEWT level, are extremely difficult. You said yourself that you had no higher ambitions apart from your marriage. Unless you're planning to use these skills later in life—"

"Professor, being _married_ and being _ignorant_ do not go hand-in-hand," I informed him coolly. I didn't bother hiding my disdain.

"Yes, well, right," he said, tugging on his shirt collar as though it was too hot in the cool, damp dungeon. He nodded brusquely, shuffling his papers again. "I'll send to Flourish & Blotts for your books straight away. I assume I can charge it to your family's account? You should have them by breakfast tomorrow."

I stood. "Thank you. _Sir_." I closed the door on his office and thought I heard a great sigh of relief.

• • • • • • • •

"Audrey Burke is not the sort of witch you should be associating yourself with." His tone was completely imperious and completely _Malfoy_.

"And why is that?" I asked annoyed. I had been distinctly ignoring Lucius since he chose to sit next to me while I studied. Fifteen inches of Arithmancy homework wasn't going to write itself.

"The Burkes come from nothing and will amount to nothing," he continued, examining his fingernails. "Audrey's father owns a tiny, floundering Dark Arts shop in Knockturn Alley. Not the most lucrative of businesses, even if it weren't set up in that hellhole. You can't disregard the fact that her family hopelessly aspires to the social circles our kind only deigns to acquaint ourselves with."

I sniffed at his argument. "She could always marry well." It's been done before.

"No eligible match in their right mind would take her. Not without garnering the censure of his entire family."

"She's Pureblood!" I exclaimed hotly.

Lucius smirked. "Her _only_ virtue."

"You're a snob," I told him, collecting my things and standing. I wouldn't sit here and listen to him verbally abuse my best friend.

His eyes flashed dangerously. "And _you're_ in denial. You know as well as I do that when you both graduate, you could never be seen with her at all."

"You can't tell me who I can and can't be friends with, Malfoy."

"On the contrary, Cissy dear, I can."

Infuriated, I stalked away from him before he could say another word. I almost made it to the dormitory stairs. "Stop!" he commanded. Immediately, uncontrollably, my body halted. "Come back here, Narcissa. You are not allowed to walk away from me when we are in the middle of a discussion."

I clenched my fists, willing my body to stay still, to continue moving forward to the stairs. Anything but obey him. It took all my strength to lift my foot up and bring it out in front of me that as soon as I took the step, my whole body buckled. I fell to the floor, knocking over a chair in the process. It, along with my books, scrolls and an inkbottle, fell against the stone floor in a tremendous crash.

My head swam, nauseous and dizzy. I had broken out into a cold sweat. My breathing grew heavy and ragged. I could barely hear Lucius' voice over the pounding in my ears.

"You Vowed to obey my commands, Narcissa. You _will_ obey them, or you will die. That was the agreement."

Struggling merely to breathe, I turned back on my hands and knees to face Lucius. The pounding in my ears subsided. I was able to stand, and as I stepped toward him, my symptoms began to diminish. By the time I had returned to my original position, all that remained of my attack was my increased heart rate and breathing.

"You bastard," was all I could manage to gasp. I was shocked—disgusted—that he used the Vow against me. Like a weapon. "You said I could trust you!" I spat.

"And you can, darling," he drawled. "But I first need to be able to trust _you_." He examined me casually. He was still sitting, legs crossed, on the green leather couch, apparently untroubled by what had just happened. "You know," he continued, "I've never tested out the limits of our Unbreakable Vow. I'll see it now, shall I?" With that, he stood and began to circle me. I stood stock-still, dreading what he was about to do.

"I command you to touch your nose." I braced myself, but after a moment, nothing happened. I watched him suspiciously. He cocked an eyebrow. "Touch your nose," he repeated. At once, the familiar nausea filled me, and I brought my hand quickly to my nose. I felt ridiculous and angry, standing in the middle of the room in such an absurd position. But most of all, I felt absolutely terrified.

"Just as I thought," Lucius mused. "The words don't matter in the command. It's about _intent._ However, it must be a verbal spell, or else how would you know that I commanded it?" He circled me once more. "How curious this Vow is."

At last he stood to face me, less than a foot away, looking down at my face. I stared forward resolutely, refusing to meet his eyes. I was willing myself not to cry in front of him, but was failing dismally.

Lucius brushed a tear away. "Look into my eyes, Narcissa." Shaking, I looked up to obey him. He lowered his face so that his mouth was almost touching mine. A small whimper escaped my lips. I sensed rather than saw his own lips curl into a sneer.

"I'm not as cruel as this, Cissy dear," he said, moving away from me and sitting back down on the couch, "Whatever you might think of me." He opened a book lying next to him and began to idly flip the pages. "Keep your little friend Audrey, then," he said, waving his hand dismissively, ending the conversation. Released from his order, I ran to my room and casting an _Imperturbable _charm on my bedcurtains, sobbed my fears and frustrations into my pillows.

* * *

**A/N:** Yay for another chapter! I love Lucius... he's so deliciously evil. And Rab! Love triangle? Maybe... Tune in next week for another installment of "The Sanctity of Blood." Thanks for everyone's reviews and encouraging comments! I'll see you all next week. 


	6. Chapter 6

"_Heav'n has no Rage, like Love to Hatred turn'd,  
Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd."_

—_William Congreve, Muggle playwright, 1697_

• • • • • • • •

The next few weeks became a blur of busy routine. Classes all day—most with Rabastan and Audrey to keep me company—then studying in front of the fireplace, usually surrounded by members of the Primori doing their massive amounts of NEWT homework. The first month at Hogwarts quickly moved into the second, and I was finding life not as drastically changed at all except in one instance: _Lucius Malfoy_.

After that incident in the common room, I tried to avoid Lucius like a plague, but I never could evade him. He never made any more commands to me—never even alluded to that day. All was as it had been before. If anything, he was more attentive than ever.

Malfoy was a mystery to me. I had never before met someone who could be so cold, yet so thoughtful all at the same time. I would constantly find him watching me, over my homework from across the common room, or I'd feel his eyes on me as I walked down the hall to class. Never overtly friendly, no; but always there looking over me.

"What is going on between you and Lucius Malfoy, Cissa?" Audrey asked me one night, as I was brushing my hair in front of the mirror.

"Yes, Cissy, tell us!" another year-mate, Janet Flint, enthused girlishly. "I saw you and him getting quite cozy tonight during dinner." _If__getting cozy means he leaned across me to talk to Rabastan_, I thought wryly. Lucius _never_ gets "cozy."

Their questions peeved me, partly because they were interrupting the only quiet time I had to myself to relax from the noisiness of the common room, the jealous glares of Hester and Cressida, and complications of _him_. The main reason the questions bothered me, however, was the fact that I didn't know the answers to them, either.

"There is nothing going on between us," I lied smoothly.

"Are you certain?" Audrey mused. "He seems quite attentive to you nowadays. He is never that mindful of any other girl he's interested in. Even when he was betrothed to Andy—!" she gasped and covered her mouth in shock. "Oh Merlin, I'm sorry, Cissy, I didn't mean to bring that up—!"

I cut her off. "Don't worry about it," I said brusquely, not looking at her.

"I thought that Malfoy was going with that Yaxley bitch," Janet continued in the awkward silence that followed, to my relief. "You know, since her older brother is climbing up the Ministry ladder."

"No," Audrey countered. "Last spring I heard he was going with…"

I allowed the mindless banter to go on without me, thankful that they had forgotten about my supposed involvement in Lucius' love life. No one apart from the Primori knew of our engagement; and no one in the school but Lucius and I knew about the Vow that had sealed it. I meant to keep it that way, and apparently so did Lucius.

He didn't act in the way I thought he would act, the Malfoy heir. After that first day on the train, he never mentioned our engagement again, nor the ring that still hung around my neck, serving as the only reminder of our connection to each other. This ring, and the curious way he was treating me, that is.

Audrey was right; even when everyone knew he and Andromeda were engaged as they grew up, not once did he treat her with any of the kindness he had shown me in the two months we had been engaged. And he _does_ treat me with kindness—at least, as much kindness as a Malfoy could produce—with the sole exception of the "Common Room Incident." I shook my head angrily at the thought. It didn't matter how kind he treated me. What happened in the Common Room was unforgivable.

In terms of the other girls he had dalliances with throughout the years—of which there were many—he was only coolly polite to them during the day, and he never ate meals with them. Most people didn't know that Lucius believed in the Old Ways; meals were only to be eaten with people one considered equals. The girls didn't mind his daytime indifference, since he showed them plenty of attention at night behind closed doors.

Lucius had become a permanent fixture in my life. Every morning at breakfast, I would invariably find myself seated between him and Rabastan. He'd politely ask how I slept or what my plans for the day were. He spent most of the meal reading _the Daily Prophet_, sometimes aloud if he thought an article would interest me, which it usual did. Lucius, somehow, knew me well. When the bell rang for the first class of the day, he'd kiss my cheek—I never made the mistake of turning toward him again—and wish me a good day. At dinner, he would ask casually how my day went and sympathize accordingly. He was being… _considerate_.

His special treatment of _me_ was where his courtesy ended, however. The same consideration didn't appear to extend to my other friends. Audrey, for example, he barely treated with civility because despite her pureblood heritage, the Burke family was not wealthy. He tolerated her, I suppose, like one would tolerate a cute but annoying stray puppy that couldn't be kick away as much as one wanted to.

For the most part, we were all getting along swimmingly. Until, with a shock, news of my engagement to Lucius Malfoy broke out. As feared, general chaos ensued.

• • • • • • • •

At breakfast one chilly morning in late October, I immediately sensed that something was very, very wrong. Students from every House table cast sneering or suspicious looks in my direction, huddling together and talking excitedly in hushed tones. There was big news in the air, and it undoubtedly concerned me. I wondered abruptly whether Andromeda was back at school and quickly scanned the room for her.

As soon as I passed a group of fifth year Ravenclaws, they turned away from me, whispering heatedly together. I heard a nasty girl hiss, _"Malfoy's whore."_ I felt the blood drain from my face. My knees buckled beneath me, and I staggered against the Slytherin table, to the sniggering of my audience.

Suddenly, I felt strong arms encircle me, steadying me. I leaned back into the warm strength I recognized immediately as Rabastan. "I've got you," he said into my hair. "Come sit down." With a glare worthy of Lucius, he sent a group of second years scurrying to find a different spot on the table and sat me down gently. He summoned a goblet of pumpkin juice. "Drink up."

I drank and the nausea I felt rising in my stomach died down a bit. "Why would they say that?" I whispered more to myself than Rabastan.

Rabastan shook his head disgustedly. "Because they're all scum," he spat. Reassuring, but not very helpful. "Lucius was livid when he heard the talk earlier. You know what an early riser he is. He sent a group of Gryffindors to Madam Pomfrey before eight o'clock this morning because of what they were saying about you. He's in Slughorn's office right now, explaining why six students have been vomiting blood for over half an hour."

Lucius wasn't able to stop the talking. If anything, he helped perpetuate it, though his efforts weren't unappreciated by me. Rabastan tried to keep the worst of it from my ears, but it didn't help. I knew what they were saying about me. No one ever said it to my face, but I still heard the words. They said I was Malfoy's pureblood whore; that I was pregnant with his bastard; they said that I had begged and blackmailed him into deigning to marry me. Those, of course, were the tamer rumors. The others contained the vilest, most disgusting and degrading things. It sickened me to hear it.

I was tense and paranoid all day. I couldn't eat nor coax the color to return to my cheeks. None of my House would talk to me. I didn't see Lucius or the rest of the Primori the entire day. Only Rabastan and Audrey stayed by my side as I made my way through the longest day of my life.

Rabastan insisted that I spend the day at the Infirmary. Madam Pomfrey wouldn't refuse me admittance, I knew, because I looked like death. It was kind of him to suggest it, but I refused. I was a Slytherin and a Black. I was stronger than this—stronger than _they were_. I refused the comfort of the few friends who offered it to me, as well as the professors who had heard the vicious rumors.

There was only one move I made to try to clear my name. After Potions, I confronted Slughorn. He was the only other person who knew about the connection between Lucius and me.

I entered his office without knocking, and he looked up from the papers he was grading with a startled look. When his beady eyes finally rested on me, his cheeks flushed. "Miss—Miss Black," he stuttered nervously. "Was there something I could do for you?"

"You can start by telling me the truth," I said coldly. "You've heard the rumors by now, I presume?"

He gulped. "Ah… yes, I have. Most unfortunate, they are. Children can be malicious."

"Adults can be, too." His doughy face drained of color.

"You can't possibly think that I—?"

"_You_ were the only person I told."

"Miss Black, I assure you, I would never spread rumors—!"

"I want to know if you told _anyone_ about my betrothal to Lucius Malfoy."

"No, no! I assumed you revealed that information to me under the strictest confidence. I have not told a soul. I swear it!"

"Yes, Slughorn. You had _better_ swear it because I promise you that if I learn that you had anything to do with the rumors about me, I will make it my life's mission to ruin you."

He was shaking, I could tell, and it gave me the smallest bit of satisfaction that I could scare him so easily. "Are—are you _threatening_ me, Miss Black?" he stammered, trying to retain his respectability in this situation.

"_Yes,"_ I replied succinctly and slammed the door behind me.

• • • • • • • •

As soon as I entered the common room, I saw Lucius sitting in a high-backed chair by the fire. When he saw me, he immediately swept toward me, collecting me in his embrace. "Dear Merlin, Cissa," he breathed into my hair. "I'm so sorry."

My arms—independent from the rest of my body, it seemed—wrapped themselves around him. All at once I felt confused and amazed that he was holding me so tightly against him, but most of all I felt relief that he was doing so. I was tired… so tired of being strong, and I allowed myself finally to relax into him, my face tucked into his neck, breathing in his familiar scent.

I was ashamed when tears began to run down my cheeks. _"Lucius…"_

"Hush…" he murmured, stroking my hair. "I promise I'm going to fix everything tonight."

He picked me up and carried me to his seat by the fire, sitting back down with me on his lap, cradling me like one would a small child. I saw Rabastan on the opposite chair, looking somewhat embarrassed by this scene.

"I wondered where you went after Potions," said Rabastan, unable to look at us. "I figured you had to talk to Slughorn."

I nodded. "I thought it might be him."

Lucius seethed. "No, I know exactly who started the rumors." I looked up at him questioningly. "That's where I was all day. After Slughorn, I was told to go to Dumbledore to explain what happened. He was very understanding." Lucius grimaced at the memory. "Then, I tracked down the source of the rumors."

"Who was it?"

He didn't say anything, but continued to run his hand through my hair. "You'll see."

I didn't have to wait long. We stayed in the common room to eat dinner and waited while Slytherins slowly made their way back from the Great Hall. Lucius stood in front of the fireplace watching each one enter. Rabastan and I sat on the high-backed chairs at his left and right, facing into the room, waiting for him to make a move. The Slytherins who were coming back could sense something important was about to happen, and stayed in the common room to watch.

Then, when two figures emerged from the stone passageway leading out into the dungeons, Lucius pounced. _"Yaxley. Bulstrode. Come here."_ He didn't yell the words, but still they reverberated through the stone common room, stopping them dead in their tracks. Cressida recovered first. She raised her chin and sniffed.

"I don't recognize you as an authority, Lucius," she spat, making her way down the common room toward the girls' dormitory.

Lucius nodded to two huge boys, Crabbe and Goyle from a year below me, and they came forward and grabbed her arms. She screamed for them to release her, but silently they brought her over to where Lucius stood, while she kicked and squirmed. Hester followed them quietly, not willing to be manhandled.

"You will shut your mouth," Lucius coldly told Cressida, "or I will shut it for you." He drew his wand menacingly. Cressida wasn't stupid. She knew when she was beat, and she stopped yelling, though that haughty look was still on her face. "You are about to be interrogated, Yaxley. In any other case, I would simply ask for you to tell the truth, but I don't see how you are capable of that." With another nod, a small first year boy with greasy hair and a long nose came forward with a goblet.

Lucius took it and forcefully held it to Cressida's lips, covering her nose in order for her to swallow the liquid. He made sure she drank everything before he removed his hand. She glared at him, hatred plain on her face, her hair hanging loosely in damp strands from the struggle. If it had been anyone else, I might have felt sorry for her.

"You have just been dosed with a strong batch of Veritaserum," Lucius said matter-of-factly. "Did you or did you not spread the rumors about Narcissa?"

The whole House stood silent with abated breath to hear her answer. Cressida struggled with herself, trying to keep the words in her mouth. We could all see it fighting to escape her lips. _"…Yes!"_ she finally gasped, _"I spread the rumors."_

Students began to whisper angrily amongst themselves, and Lucius held up his hand to silence them. "And what exactly _were_ the rumors?"

She stared at me angrily. "I said Narcissa was your whore. I told everyone that you have her every night and then give her to Lestrange and the rest to use. I said that she was pregnant, and she didn't know who the father was because she had been with so many men. I said that she—!"

"_Enough!"_ Lucius roared. "You disgust me. Why would you spread such hateful, evil lies about a fellow Slytherin?"

Cressida was crying violently now. _"Because I hate her!"_ she screamed. _"I hate her because she took my place! I hate her because she won you! I hate her because you love her more than you ever cared for me!"_ The common room was completely silent except for the sound of Cressida's sobbing.

"Was—was Hester part of this?" I asked into the silence. She shook her head. Hester was innocent.

"Cressida Yaxley," Lucius pronounced the name with a look of distaste. "You have made a fellow Slytherin a spectacle before the entire school. You are fortunate that _we_ are not so heartless. We would be well within our rights to have you publicly disgraced. As it is, you have brought enough shame onto our House, so your punishment will be private. From this moment forward, you are exiled." He ripped the Slytherin badge off her robes and threw it into the fire. "You are no longer a Slytherin."

Crabbe and Goyle dropped her arms, and she fell wailing onto the cold stone floors. Lucius turned away from her and addressed the rest of the House.

"Narcissa and I are betrothed," Lucius said. "We have been since the summer. All the disgusting things you have heard about Narcissa Black that were uttered by this whore"—he pointed at Cressida—"were lies. But none of you are blameless today. You helped to spread the filth about a Pureblood woman. I hold you all at fault for what happened here."

His cold gray eyes pierced the crowd. No one looked down in shame; Slytherins are too proud for that, and I didn't expect it of them; but many stony faces nodded their assent. "Narcissa is now under my protection. If _any _of you harm what is mine again by word or deed, I swear by the Blood, Slytherin or no, I _will_ end your life."

I stared at him, amazed. Lucius Malfoy was a mystery.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry about the two-month hiatus! New school year, new job, new boyfriend... it's rather difficult for me to concentrate on one obsession at a time. I've _just_ started to get back into the swing of things, so I thought I'd update. I'm not sure if I'll be able to update regularly like I did during the summer, but I'll try not to leave for months at a time. Also, I'll probably update my Draco/Pansy fic "No One But Us" soon too. Thank you all for your kind comments, and thank you for putting up with me! Much love, Sondra. 


	7. Chapter 7

"_A proper Pureblood wife never fails to show support for her husband, whether by word or deed. The needs of the Head of your family must always be met, for how can the body live without its head?"_

—_The Newly-Wed Pureblood's Guide to Marriage, 1951_

• • • • • • • •

The talking steadily declined after that day. Every Slytherin made it their personal duty to guard my honor. Wands were shot under desks and cloaks at those who still whispered the rumors. The infirmary filled with Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and even a few Hufflepuffs who attempted to besmirch my name again. It soon became clear that to cross Narcissa Black was to cross Lucius Malfoy—and _no one_ wanted to cross Lucius Malfoy.

Cressida Yaxley's exile was monumental for the Slytherin House. Never had someone fallen so far so fast within our caste system. Over night Cressida had become a social pariah. No Slytherin would talk to her, eat meals with her, or even be seen walking the halls with her. She was permitted to socialize with other Houses, but Cressida's personality did not endear her to many outside Slytherin, and after her exile none of her acquaintances stood by her.

Less than a month after my one day of hell, all talk (at least publicly) disappeared. Not long after that, so did Cressida. If anyone ever mentioned her again, it wasn't in my presence. To me, she had disappeared long before she actually left. I learned later, after childish grievances had died, that she transferred to Beauxbaton Academy in France and had married into a family who could only count their Pureblood ancestry back three generations.

After her departure, a seventh year girl named Julia Nott took Cressida's place within the Primori. Julia was a pretty girl from a well-to-do family. Raised by a domineering father, she was rather submissive and soft-spoken; a relief after having had to endure Cressida's forceful personality.

Hester, out of Cressida's influence and grateful for not having to suffer the same punishment by association, became much more pleasant. I became the queen bee that she followed around. I didn't mind it too much, if she wasn't overly clingy or dependent, which she learned not to be.

"All hail the veritable Queen of Slytherin!" Rabastan would joke whenever he saw me coming down the hallway. By the time Cressida left, I had amassed an entourage numerous enough to rival Lucius'. Hester, Julia, Audrey were frequently in my company now, as well as the silent figures of Crabbe and Goyle to whom Lucius had conferred the task of being my bodyguards. Rabastan himself could usually be found with either Lucius or me, acting as a messenger of sorts between the two groups.

The whole affair was quite a production, especially at dinner, where Lucius and I sat side by side holding court at the Slytherin table with the whole school in attendance. That's where Rabastan got his nickname for me. The King and Queen of Slytherin were what the other Houses whispered behind our backs. Lucius and I didn't mind. Rumors were only upsetting if they were false. Lucius and I didn't try to hide our engagement, as there really wasn't a point to do so anymore. Everyone knew that we were betrothed, and the Slytherins made it clear to the rest of the school that rumors varying from that definite truth were not to be tolerated.

The whole of November passed without incident. Life carried on as it had before all the drama started, except I seemed to have more friends than ever. We went to class, we studied, we socialized, we sniped. The Primori held council and ran the Slytherin House like a clock. I was not yet cynical enough to be suspicious of the normalcy. I hadn't yet learned that when one's life was going exactly to plan, it wouldn't last for long.

• • • • • • • •

It was a week before Christmas break, and every inch of the school was decked out in holiday decorations. Even the common room was not immune from the festivities: the house elves magically erected a heavily decorated Christmas tree by the fire; wreaths were hung over the fireplace; the stone basilisks sported earmuffs and scarves; and the Bloody Baron shuffled his chains to the rhythm of popular Christmas carols.

Everyone was in high spirits. There was only one more week of classes and then over three weeks off for the holidays. Schoolwork was forgotten in the talk of holiday plans and gift ideas. It was an owl that shattered what would have been a perfect Christmas.

The giant eagle owl swooped down from one of the open windows in the Great Hall on a bright and chilly Monday morning. I had always admired the magic of Hogwarts. The windows in the Hall were enchanted to let in the owls to deliver mail, but none of the winter weather that besieged the castle.

I immediately recognized the owl as belonging to the Malfoys. Lucius never did get that much mail as a rule, but the Malfoys were the only family I knew who would keep such a magnificent animal for such a mundane task. I petted and fed the bird while Lucius untied the scroll attached to its leg.

Curiosity drove me to watch his face as he read the letter, and so I saw him stiffen with shock half way through. Imperceptible to everyone else, a tiny scowl appeared on his usual impassive face. He stared unmoving at the parchment in his hand, which had re-rolled itself in his weak grip.

"What's wrong?" I asked, placing a hand on his arm. He jumped at the contact, as though surprised by my presence beside him.

"My fa—father," he said. It was the first time I had ever heard Lucius trip over his words. Whenever he spoke, he always retained his slow cultured drawl. When he was angry, his words would be terse, but still distinct and clearly formed. I hadn't seen this emotion before, so it took me a few moments before I finally understood.

Lucius was afraid.

"My father is dying," he said quietly. Only those nearest to us heard, and they halted in their own conversations to listen.

"How is that possible?" I asked. "I saw him only a few months ago! He looked healthy—"

"It's dragon pox." At that, a hush fell across the whole table. Dragon pox was a relatively common childhood disease typical of rashes and the acquired greenish tinge for which the disease was named. This sickness in an elderly person, however, was almost always fatal because it struck fast and it struck hard. Abraxas Malfoy was not a young man; he had his son late in life.

Lucius stood up abruptly. "I need to see Dumbledore," he said before any of us could offer a word of comfort. Quickly gathering his things, he left the Great Hall. I had never seen him so discomposed.

I didn't see Lucius again for the rest of the day. When I got back to the common room, a first year gave me a note from Lucius bidding me to meet him in his dormitory. Taking a cue from Rabastan, I muttered, "Confundo," at the stone basilisk and it, complete with scarf and muffs, allowed me to pass. It was only one flight down to the seventh years'.

Lucius was alone in the poorly lit room. A half-packed trunk lay open at the foot of his bed. He looked up when I entered and then quickly away. "Dumbledore's letting me leave for home tonight," he told me, continuing to pack up his things.

I nodded. That was expected. "Give my best to your father—" I began.

"I want you to come with me," he quickly added.

That surprised me. "Come with you?" I repeated stupidly.

"I've already asked Dumbledore," Lucius said, not looking at me. "He's given his permission, considering our engagement. I just need"—his voice wavered a bit and he swallowed—"I just want you to come with me. It's up to you. I'm not going to command you." Though his tone clearly said that he wanted to.

I went to him then and took his hand in mine, stilling their movement. He finally turned to face me. I could tell that he'd been crying; though his eyes were dry now. "I would be honored to go with you," I told him. His shoulders seemed to relax as though he had been bracing himself for rejection, and he smiled down at me, almost relieved.

• • • • • • • •

We left for Malfoy Manor by Floo an hour later. Their house wasn't connected to the regular Floo Network and required a special installment for the day. The Malfoys were very private people, and while most homes would simply have a "do-not-disturb" charm on their fireplaces preventing unwanted visitors, the Malfoys wanted that extra precaution of not allowing even the possibility of entrance.

Lucius stood by my side watching the fireplace in Dumbledore's office. We still had a few minutes left to wait before the connection was established. I had only been in the Headmaster's office once or twice before, and so I took the opportunity to unabashedly examine his possessions.

Dumbledore gave me a knowing look, breaking the silence. "I've already owled your parents, Miss Black, and I've informed your professors of your excused absence for the rest of the week."

"Thank you, Professor." I hadn't even considered those things. The only person that had mattered and who I focused on was Lucius. I was grateful that Dumbledore had taken care of the minor details already.

At last he said it was time and extended a candy dish filled with Floo Powder to me. I took a pinch and so did Lucius. "Good luck, Mr. Malfoy," he said kindly and left the room. Lucius indicated that I go first.

My trunk firmly in hand, I threw down the powder and the fire blazed green. I stepped into it, and clearly stated, "Malfoy Manor!" There was a brilliant flash, and stepping forward again, I found myself at the Malfoy's entryway. Lucius was only a step behind me, and I quickly pulled my trunk out of the way.

"Dobby!" Lucius called. Immediately there appeared a scrawny house elf with huge green eyes wearing an ugly paisley pillowcase.

"Y—yes, Master Lucius?" asked the terrified looking elf.

"Where are my mother and father?"

"Mistress has taken Master to St. Mungo's, sir. It was earlier this morning after she sent young master the letter. They have not yet returned, sir."

Lucius nodded curtly. "All right, take our trunks up then. Miss Narcissa will be staying in the Blue Room. We're going to St. Mungo's."

St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was the famous Wizarding hospital in London; but it was also usually heavily crowded. If Mrs. Malfoy had been desperate enough to take her husband there, his condition must have taken a turn for the worse.

We found the Malfoys in a smallish room tucked into the corner of the second floor of St. Mungo's. Before entering, Lucius had stood outside the door, staring at it, as if building up his courage to enter. I slipped my small hand into his. He squeezed it gently and then opened the door.

Mrs. Malfoy looked up from her vigil, her eyes swollen and red. Mr. Malfoy slept fitfully in the too-small bed beside her. His visage was so completely changed in the four months since I had last seen him that had I passed him on the street, I would not have known him. His cheeks were sunken in, and his jaw, as well as around his mouth, nose, and eyes were tinged with green. Open, scaly sores covered his skin.

Standing and leaving the bedside, Mrs. Malfoy came toward us, embracing Lucius. He returned her embrace one-armed—he did not let go of my hand. She then kissed my cheeks. "I'm so glad you came, children."

"How did he get this way…?" Lucius asked in disbelief, staring at the shrunken figure of his father on the bed.

Mrs. Malfoy shook her head. "He complained of headaches and sore joints last week. He had a fever. I put him to bed—I thought he had the flu. I didn't realize what it was until the—the—" she covered her mouth, unable to get out the words.

"Is it all right for you to be here with him, Mrs. Malfoy?" I asked. "You might catch it yourself."

She waved my concern away. "The Healers said he's past the point of contagion now. And I had dragon pox when I was younger, as did Lucius." She looked back at her sleeping husband, teary-eyed.

Lucius' hand gripped mine even tighter. "How long until...?"

"Three weeks at the most. If we're fortunate, he might live to see the New Year."

"And he… knows?" She nodded. Lucius dropped my hand then, and moved to take the seat his mother had vacated. "Father?" Lucius urged, a hand on the older man's chest, emphasizing his shallow breathing.

"Lu—Lucius?" the older man asked, coming out of his potion-induced sleep.

"I'm here, Father," Lucius rasped.

"It's so bloody cold in here," Abraxas Malfoy complained tiredly, turning about in his bed. "Tell Dobby to build up the fire." His mind was going; he thought he was still in Malfoy Manor.

Lucius pulled the meager bedcovers up to his father's chin. "I'll tell him, Father. Go back to sleep. We'll be here if you need us." Soon, Mr. Malfoy fell once again into a restless slumber.

"Can the Healers do anything for him?" Lucius asked, still looking at his father's sleeping form. I could sense the anger in his voice.

Mrs. Malfoy shook her head. "Just calming draughts and other potions to relax him. The treatment for dragon pox wasn't working. He's simply too old."

"I don't want him here, then. He doesn't deserve this! Dying in a bed that's too small for him, in a room that could fit in one of our broom closets! He's a Malfoy, for Merlin's sake!" He stood up and strode to the door, shouting for a Healer. "We're bringing him back to the Manor!"

The Healers didn't object much to this plan. Beyond making Abraxas Malfoy comfortable, there really was nothing else they could do for him that we weren't able to do at home. Besides, with the holidays approaching, they needed the extra rooms. Christmas holiday was St. Mungo's busiest time of year.

By the end of the day, Mr. Malfoy had been successfully moved back to Malfoy Manor. His father had been born in that very house, Lucius had told me; it was only appropriate that he die there as well.

• • • • • • • •

Lucius, Mrs. Malfoy and I dined in a large, ornate dining room, which Mrs. Malfoy assured me was only used for informal, intimate family meals. Dinner was a somber affair. Mrs. Malfoy asked politely, though obviously disinterestedly, about how school was going. Lucius answered curtly; I answered quickly. After the meal Lucius and his mother Disapparated to different parts of the house, and I was left trying to find out how to get to my room.

I wandered around the Manor for the better part of an hour, not seeing even a single house elf. The entire house was draped in beautiful Christmas decorations, but there was no heart or love put into it. It had all the personality of a store display at Diagon Alley.

Following a maze of lighted rooms and open doors, I found myself in a long corridor lined with Malfoy family paintings dating back to the middle ages, based on the clothing of the oldest. Each Malfoy family stared down at me demurely and silently as I walked by. It was obvious from the paintings that beauty ran in the family, as well as the shared trait of small families. Not one generation had more than two children, the eldest always being a male.

"It complicates things," a portrait at the end of the hall told me. His wife slept on a chair beside him. By the nameplate and date underneath the portrait, I guessed it to be of Abraxas Malfoy's father and Lucius' grandfather. "It's easier to have fewer children, and no other males to contest the line." He said it as though it should have been obvious to everyone.

"How medieval," I replied dryly.

The Malfoy patriarch let out a courtier's chuckle. "Perhaps, but the Malfoys have not died out, have we? Nor our riches divided between quarreling brothers." I couldn't argue with that. The painting gave me a shrewd look. "What, may I ask, are you doing in my house, girl?"

"Your son Abraxas is dying," I told him. "I came here with his son Lucius."

"You're his fiancée, then?" he said more than asked. I nodded. "What's your name, girl?"

"Narcissa Black."

His familiar gray eyes narrowed accusingly. "You look nothing like a Black."

I almost laughed. "So I've been told, sir."

"There you are!" Lucius appeared at the end of the hall and walked over to me. He looked ill at ease. "I'm a terrible host. I didn't mean to Disapparate on you like that. I was… distracted," he finished lamely.

"It's a small matter," I said, taking his hand. "I've just met your grandfather."

A small smile played around Lucius' lips as he turned to the painting. "So Grandfather Malfoy, what do you think of my betrothed?"

"She's a comely enough girl. You're following the tradition of beautiful Malfoy wives," he said with a nod, "but I trust you were thinking with the head on your _shoulders_ when you decided the match?"

My face blushed fiercely at his bluntness. Lucius put an arm around me. "Of course, Grandfather. Only the best, in every respect, for a Malfoy." With that, he steered me away from the cackling painting and out of the room.

"Did you want to go straight to your rooms," Lucius asked, "or would you like to take a stroll through the gardens with me?"

"Would that be appropriate with your father…?"

Lucius shrugged, a gesture that looked too casual for him. "No time like the present." I agreed and took his arm.

"Then a walk would be lovely." We made our way out into the terrace, and I thought of my betrothal ceremony just a few short months ago. If he was thinking of it too, he gave no indication, but continued on to the gravel path that led into the garden and encircled the now frozen pond at the center.

A light dusting of snow covered the ground, but the night sky was free of clouds and full of stars. I remembered what I had told to Slughorn about stargazing being for romantics and chuckled. Lucius gave me a curious look, but instead asked, "How do you like Malfoy Manor now that you've had a chance to look around a bit?"

"Your house is beautiful, if a bit cold," I said honestly. He knew I wasn't referring to the temperature.

"The Malfoys aren't exactly known for their warmth," he agreed. "But families don't need warmth to be strong. There are firmer foundations than affection. There's loyalty. There's trust. There's respect."

"And love?"

He smiled. "I don't know about love. Love is confusing… it's chaotic. If anything, Malfoys are calculating and reasonable. Not like you Blacks. Hotheaded, the whole lot."

I couldn't stop the grin I felt forming. "But like your grandfather said, I'm nothing at all like a Black."

"No, you're not. I've always known you were destined to be a Malfoy." Lucius turned me to face him, lifting my face up to his. With the stars shining down in the garden and not a soul in sight, it was an ideal romantic haven.

"Merlin, I've walked right into this one, haven't I?" I asked with a wry smile right before his lips met mine.

He laughed at that—the first laugh I heard this whole grim day. "Yes, yes, you did," he conceded and kissed me.

It was perfect.

* * *

**A/N: **Uggh, I did it again... I apologize for not updating sooner. I was actually meaning to post this chapter over Christmas vacation, but life got in the way per usual. Thank you for not giving up on me or this story. Happy (belated) New Years and happy reading, all! 


	8. Chapter 8

"'_Tis written in every Man's destiny that he should die. Whether rich or poor, slave or free. It matters not. Even Sons of the Blood cannot live forever."_

—_Alchemy Secrets of the Pureblood Wizard, 1849_

• • • • • • •

I spent most of the days at Malfoy Manor with Lucius. We toured Wiltshire on horses like quaint country Muggles, which I found vastly exhilarating. I've never been much of a broom-rider, as I had an extreme fear of heights, but riding a horse came almost natural to me. Lucius and I would ride out into the countryside for hours at a time.

During the week leading up to Christmas, Lucius lavished attention on me. He took me to Diagon Alley for a day of shopping for Christmas presents, and even accompanied me to my parents' house for afternoon tea. At night during the first few days of my stay, we would gather around Mr. Malfoy's sick bed. Lucius would read to him from the _Daily Prophet_, though he'd shy away from the more troubling stories unless Mr. Malfoy demanded to hear them.

The wizard that had had been gathering followers earlier that year was gaining power and reputation. The self-styled "Lord Voldemort" already had ties to families we knew through various social circles. They called themselves "Death Eaters," most came from Pureblood families who valued the Principle. Many were sons of the men who were once known as the Knights of Walpurgis, a Pureblood society formed in the early forties. I had heard of the Knights before—my father had also been a member.

December began to wane, and Abraxas Malfoy's health was steadily deteriorating. As the days passed, his coherent moments grew shorter and shorter. He either spent most of the day in a feverish, fitful sleep; or confused and childlike, all memories of his family gone. He regularly woke up, not knowing where he was or who we were, throwing anything he could reach at us in fear.

On those bad days, which grew more and more frequent as days passed, Lucius couldn't stand being in the house with his father, who screamed as though he was being tortured. He refused to stay and watch the healers struggle to calm down the flailing and sobbing Malfoy patriarch. Roughly, Lucius would pull me outside with him, and I was forced to run next to his long strides.

Leading me under a great oak tree, away from the curious eyes of the Manor, he jerked me down into a tight embrace, his hands fumbling with the tiny buttons of my pelisse and the folds of my dress, sometimes tearing them. His grasp and kisses were rough—there'd be light bruises left after each encounter—but I allowed him this small pleasure. After a few minutes his intensity would be spent, his face buried in the hollow of my neck, both of us breathing puffs of white into the cold air, and he'd be composed enough to return to the house.

"Kill me," he once whispered to me, as he rested on my bare chest, "if I ever lose my mind like my father."

We never went further than that, the touching and kissing. Lucius may have been near his breaking point during those times together under the tree, but he would never be coarse enough to take me in the middle of a field like a rutting animal. Lucius was, after all, a Malfoy and dignity mattered. If Mrs. Malfoy ever wondered where we had gone, returning with my hair in disarray and Lucius' usually pale skin flushed with exertion, she never mentioned it.

• • • • • • •

Christmas dawned in the middle of a snowstorm. Thick sheets of white fell heavy outside the window, blocking my view from the Manor in every direction. We wouldn't be riding today, I could tell. A house elf had built up the fire and the room was nice and toasty. I was delighted to find that the foot of my bed was stacked high with presents.

From Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, I received a long hooded black velvet cloak, lined with dark blue silk. It was gorgeous. My parents gifted me with mittens, a scarf and hat made of pure white cashmere. Bella sent over a large box of chocolate cauldrons, which she knew I couldn't eat. There was a new set of eagle feather quills from Rabastan; a bottle of my favorite perfume from Audrey. And there at the bottom of the pile was Lucius' gift.

I didn't realize how much I was anticipating his gift until I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. Even as I picked up the carefully wrapped box, I tried to tell myself to be grateful for whatever he got, as men are notoriously known to be horrendous gift givers. The wrapping paper revealed a walnut box, on the lid of which the initials N.G.M. were intricately engraved.

I opened the box and breathed a sigh of delight. A single strand of large white pearls lay nestled in the velvet cushion of the box. Lightly brushing the smooth, gleaming orbs with my finger, I didn't notice the door opening.

"Happy Christmas, Narcissa," Lucius said, closing the door behind him.

"Thank you so much, Lucius. It's beautiful."

He beckoned me to sit at my vanity, and taking the necklace from the box, moved my heavy rope of hair to clasp it around my neck. Watching me in the mirror, he stroked my exposed throat.

"Exquisite," he murmured.

Then Lucius untied my hair ribbon, and with his fingers, combed my hair out of its braid. Taking the hairbrush from the stand, he began to brushing my hair. "You don't have—!" I started to protest, but he hushed me and continued on with his ministrations. I found myself relaxing under his touch.

"Pearls," he said, "are the most under-celebrated gem. Diamonds are lauded, but they merely mask the wearer, making them appear more beautiful then they actually are. Pearls, however, enhance beauty but only if it's already there. You, my darling dearest Cissy, have no need for gaudy diamonds."

I felt my eyelids grow heavy, as he continued to brush my hair. In the corner of my mind, I felt his fingers caressing my neck and gradually shifting lower and lower until his hand slipped into the low-cut bodice of my nightgown. His fingers tweaked one nipple, and then the other.

A small groan escaped my lips.

Quickly abandoning my hairbrush, Lucius picked me up and proceeded to deposit me back onto my bed, climbing in next to me. When I finally opened my eyes, his once perfectly buttoned shirt had been discarded to the floor, as were the presents I had received. My left arm was already freed from its sleeve, and Lucius was diligently working on the other when we heard a sharp rap on the door.

"Narcissa dear!" called out Mrs. Malfoy's voice. "The whole house is up. Lucius has been awake for hours now. Would you care to come down and have Christmas breakfast with us?"

Lucius gave me a pained look and rolled away from me, picking up his shirt from the pile of clothes on the floor. "Yes, Mrs. Malfoy! That would be lovely! I'll come downstairs directly!" I called toward the door, and went to my wardrobe to find clothes.

"You don't think she suspects, do you?" I asked Lucius worriedly.

He grimaced. "No, she doesn't suspect," he answered. "She knows beyond a doubt I'm in here." He pulled his shirt on. "I'll leave you to get… _ahem, dressed_," he said, staring pointedly at my open bodice. I stuck my tongue out at him, most un-ladylike, and he left my room laughing.

• • • • • • •

Christmas breakfast was a lighthearted affair. Mr. Malfoy, after taking strong doses of Invigorating Draught, was able to join us, though he sat at the head of the table looking weak and pale. He regaled us with stories of his youth, while house-elves brought in trays and trays of rich food.

After breakfast the snow had finally stopped, and Lucius and I went riding for an hour or so along the hard-packed country roads. By the time we got back, my fingers and toes were frozen despite the warming charms I put on my boots and gloves.

The fire in the library was drawn up, so we spent the remainder of the morning there, reading to each other or playing Wizards' chess. "All Slytherins should be proficient in chess," Lucius had admonished when he learned that I didn't play. Bullying me into playing against him, he soundly beat me in every match, even when he handicapped himself by sitting out his queen and rook.

"It's about seeing the bigger picture, Cissa. You're strategizing like a Gryffindor. The object of the game is _not_ to have the most pieces at the end. The object is to take the opposing king. You have to be willing to make sacrifices for the greater good."

"_Greater good,"_ I sneered, frustrated with my failing efforts. "Look who's thinking like a Gryffindor now." Emotionless, he took another one of my pieces and set it to the side.

"In one sense, I suppose," he mused. "But it takes a ruthless Slytherin to send pawns to their death if it means ultimately killing the king."

"Perhaps I'm not ruthless enough, then, for this game," I said, as he took my last bishop.

Lucius chuckled. "Don't worry. You _will_ be."

• • • • • • •

Abraxas Malfoy did not last to see the New Year. He went quietly, his body numbed from pain by the numerous potions he had imbibed just before the clock struck midnight on December 31st. We were gathered at his bedside when he breathed his last. His thin, hollow body shuddered slightly, and then he lay limp and gray.

Lucius' mother emerged from the bedroom pale and shaking, but her features were composed when she immediately began preparations for the burial in the family mausoleum. Glancing at the invitation list, I could tell that the Malfoy patriarch's funeral would be the first great social event of the year.

"Ooh Cissy, I'm so jealous!" gushed Bella when she entered my bedroom at the Manor. She jumped into the soft downy bed, her dark hair and gown was a stark contrast to the white of the silken sheets. "And is this life treating you well? A tad more impressive than life as the daughter of a minor Black."

"Oh, hush. We're not as desperate as you make us out to be. Black women have been envied wives for generations." I sat at the vanity and checked my appearance in the mirror.

"I'm pleased to see you're not willing to see that tradition die then," Bella teased. She climbed out of the bed and took up a brush to my hair.

"How do you like this black on me? I'm not keen on such a dreary color. I look too pale in it." I pinched my cheeks to draw some color into them.

"Ever the vain sister, my gilded one," Bella said, her turn to scold me. "Revel in your beauty now," she continued in a low, gravely voice, _"for your lot will be the worst of us all."_

"What are you saying?'' I hissed, turning to her sharply. But Bella stood behind me with faraway eyes, her head tilted as if in a daze.

"_The first will know true devotion,"_ she continued in the same guttural whisper. _"And the second will know true love, but the third and brightest will know neither unless it springs first from within her."_

"Bella!" I cried, clutching her arm. She shook that distrait expression from her face, blinking several times.

"Come, love," she said, slightly confused, "or we'll be late."

• • • • • • •

I couldn't find Lucius in the crowd of people in the reception hall after the ceremony. Bella had been absorbed and vanished into the sea of black as soon as she entered the room. The wealthy witches and wizards of the Blood milled around the tables laden with food, gossiping and catching up on the latest gossip.

"Cissa!" I heard a familiar voice call. Rabastan waved his arm enthusiastically, beckoning me toward him. "_Merlin_, do you even recognize _half_ of these people?" He handed me a goblet of spiced pumpkin juice.

I gulped down the ice-cold beverage, shaking my head. "Lucius said distant relatives from France had come to pay their respects—just a minor branch of the Malfoy family."

"Is that…?" Rabastan's jaw dropped as we saw a particularly famous Quidditch player and an entourage of women sashay by. "_Incredible_." As wealthy and Blooded the Lestranges were, they weren't nearly as socially connected as the Malfoys. Nor were the Blacks. The Malfoys had a curious ability to be loved—or hated—by everyone.

We moved toward the edge of the room. Craning my neck to see over the crush of people, I spotted Lucius' platinum blond hair glinting in the firelight: a beacon in a blanket of fog. Surrounded by his father's old cronies, his usually pale cheeks flushed with exertion…and something else.

Breaking away from Rabastan, I wove my way through the crowd to Lucius. His eyes lit up when he saw me. Bowing, he excused himself and took my hand in his, placing his other at the small of my back, expertly leading me out of the room. He took me down a dark abandoned hallway. The sound of my shoes echoed on the marble floors as his steps grew longer, and I had to run to keep up with his furious pace.

"Lucius, where—!" I began before he pushed me up against a wall and kissed me violently. His lips were cold as they traveled down the length of my flushed skin. He dug his fingers into my hair, pulling loose the pins holding up the curls. My hands were equally wild as I clutched at him. When we finally parted, our breathing was as ragged as our clothing.

Gently, he brushed his thumb against my swollen lips. "Damn it, Narcissa," he murmured, tracing the lace of my bodice.

"What's wrong?" I asked, boldly running my hand through his hair. He gave me a wry smile.

"You, my dear, are flirting with danger," he teased.

I grinned back at him impishly. "No, sir," I replied. "I'm _marrying_ him."


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

"_A true Pureblood man is loyal to his master, friendly to his neighbors, generous to his mistress, and civil to his wife."_

—_On Pureblood Relationships, 1934_

• • • • • • •

The train ride back to Hogwarts, I saw, would be awkward and uncomfortable. Lucius had swept off to his secret meetings as soon as we boarded, and Audrey brooded uncharacteristically. "I'm surprised you would deign to sit with me, your majesty," she sniped without provocation. Questions about her holiday were answered in short, terse sentences, and we soon fell silent. Hester snored quietly in the corner.

So lulled was I by the monotonous ride that I jumped up when the compartment door suddenly slid open within the first hour. The first-year Severus entered looking sheepish. "F—f—for you, ma'am," he stuttered nervously, extending to me a folded note. I took it and quickly recognized Lucius' handwriting.

It was an order for me to join him in his compartment. _Do not tell Audrey why,_ it read. My first instinct was to refuse such a rude command, but the spell sensed my disobedience, and I began to feel the effects. _Damn Lucius_.

I stood, and Audrey glared accusations at me. "I'm sorry, Audrey," I tried to placate her, "but I have to leave."

"Running off to your master?" she accurately guessed. She turned away from me to face the window. Hastily, I went to Lucius. The pressure of the spell completely alleviated.

Lucius looked up with a smug expression when I entered. "Ah, so it worked."

I glowered at him, allowing him to see the anger on my face, which he ignored. "You could have asked," I spat at him. "You could have fetched me yourself. You didn't have to send a command through an errand boy."

"It was an experiment," he answered nonchalantly, brushing away my words with a sweep of his hand. "You don't know the value of learning everything there is to know about this spell."

"Of course, I don't. I'm the one it's being tested on."

Lucius gave me a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Sit," he said pointedly.

I sat. Of course I did.

"She was certainly being rude to you," he continued.

I pursed my lips. "I'm sure she didn't mean to do it. She's probably just miffed that we weren't able to spend time together this holiday."

"I hope she gets used to it. Audrey Burke was acting out like a spoiled child."

"That is not fair, Lucius. As we have already gone over countless times, Audrey is my friend."

"Who throws a fit whenever you aren't paying attention to her. Angry because she sees her control over you slipping, perhaps?"

"Control over me?" I retorted bitterly. "You're the only one with who's ever that."

He smiled, as though pleased with the idea. "And I attend to keep it that way." He shrugged, "I don't particularly dislike your relationship with the Burke girl—simply, I think you could do much better. She has done nothing for you. She's used to feeding off of your popularity, your wealth. She's a leech, Cissy."

I sniffed. "Obviously, you and I have two very different definitions of friendship."

Lucius laughed. "No, my pet. _You_ have a definition of friendship. _I'm_ the one who understands that there is no such thing."

• • • • • • •

"They're thes—thestrals," stammered Severus, noticing my shocked expression. "They've always been there. Except you c—can't see them unless you seen someone die."

That would explain it then. I had seen Abraxas Malfoy die, and now I could see the thestrals—death incarnate. "Can you see them too?" I asked a disinterested Lucius.

He nodded absently. "I could see them since last year," he answered, placing our trunks into the carriage the thestrals were carting.

We rode to the castle, depositing our luggage in the foyer for the house-elves to take to our rooms, and headed straight to the Great Hall for dinner. I scanned the almost full Slytherin table for Audrey, but she wasn't among those seated.

Lucius led me toward his group of lackeys, sitting me between him and Rabastan. "Rab, have you seen Audrey?" I asked.

"I saw her go to the dormitory," he said around a mouth full of food. "She said she wasn't hungry."

She was angry and avoiding me then. Of course she was. I had abandoned her on the train, giving her a pitiful excuse. But she was angry at me before that. I needed to talk to her, I decided.

After dinner, I opted to skip the usual Slytherin festivities and made my way through the labyrinth of corridors to get to the dormitories. Climbing down to the room I shared with the other 6th year girls, I noticed that Audrey's bed curtains were drawn closed.

"Audrey?" I called. No answer came. I sighed and climbed back up the stairs to Lucius.

It wasn't until much later in the night when I returned to the dorm with the rest of the girls. The room soon filled with the bitter smell of smoke and alcohol we carried with us from the celebrations above. Our cheeks were flushed, and no one was in the mood for sleep.

"Cissa!" gushed one of the girls. "Tell us all about your _romantic_ holiday with Lucius."

"I'd hardly call it romantic," I answered, sitting down to brush my hair. "His father was dying after all."

"Yes, of course," said another, "but you can't possibly expect us to believe you didn't have any time alone with him."

I remembered the rides over the virgin snow of Wiltshire; the chess matches by the fire; the stolen moments under the oak tree. "Yes," I said with a smile. "I had a few."

Audrey's bed curtains were suddenly thrown open . "It must have been more than a few, since you didn't even have a spare moment to reply to one of my letters," Audrey said, emerging from her bed.

"No," I said standing, shaking my head in confusion. "I didn't get any of your letters, Audrey, or I would have responded."

"Oh, and I suppose you didn't hear about my coming to visit you?" she continued bitterly. "I waited all afternoon alone in the Malfoys' foyer, and you never showed up."

I stepped toward her beseechingly. "Audrey, believe me. I didn't know anything about your visit or your letters. You're my friend, and I love you. I wouldn't hurt you."

"Are you saying that Lucius is deliberately keeping me away from you?"

"I don't know about _deliberate_—!"

"You said it yourself, you didn't know about my visit or my letters. Who, if not Lucius, would be in control of that? Who else would have a _reason_?"

"It was a busy week," I said, searching my mind for answers. "His father was dying—we were in and out of the house, it was Christmastime—"

"Do you love him?" she asked abruptly. The other girls giggled nervously at Audrey's question, and I remembered that we had an audience.

I returned to my vanity and continued combing my hair. "What's not to love?" I replied flippantly, attempting to return this conversation to somewhat normal. "Lucius is handsome, clever, rich—"

"_Evil_."

The other girls gasped, astounded that anyone would dare say something against Lucius Malfoy.

"No, he's not," I calmly responded, continuing to comb my hair. I caught her gaze in the mirror. "Sometimes people don't understand him or his motives because he's—"

"A liar?" she interrupted snidely.

"_No_, he's—!"

"Manipulative!"

I slammed my brush down against the vanity. "This is my future husband you're slandering," I told her through clenched teeth.

"It's not slander if it's true, Narcissa," Audrey retorted.

I stood up to face her, finally furious. "Who the hell do you think you are? You are an uppity little nothing that wormed your way into the graces of your betters. Lucius tried to warn me about you. You come from nothing, and that's exactly how you'll end up. _You are a pathetic little leech_."

Her face pale, Audrey stood in the middle of the room, shaking—in anger or something else, I don't know. "You are a damnable fool if you go through with marrying Malfoy. He will lie to you. He will cheat on you. He will treat you like a dog—he already does. Life with him will bring you nothing but misery and heartache!"

"_Shut your mouth!"_ I screamed, slapping her across the face. I instantly regretted what I'd done the moment I saw my bright pink handprint against her pale skin.

Touching her cheek gingerly, Audrey looked more shocked than anything else. Her eyes were wide, almost like amazement. "They were right about you, Narcissa. A viper in the grass. Now I see I've spoken too late. You're already in love with him. And you two deserve each other."

"Audrey!" I said, reaching out to her—in regret, in apology. She shook me off and retreated behind the curtains of her bed.

• • • • • • •

"Her father's business if failing," Rabastan answered, when I asked him about Audrey's odd behavior of late. "Her parents fight constantly. She said you never sent her an owl throughout the holidays, even though she sent you several letters."

"She did not!" I exclaimed, outraged.

Rabastan held up his hands, as though protecting himself. "I'm just the messenger! Don't be angry with _me!_"

Whatever was bothering Audrey, it didn't let up even after several weeks at Hogwarts. She was moody and unresponsive. She snapped at me when I asked her what ailed her and disappeared for hours on end. Her grades began to fail, as she stopped attending classes. She was suffering, I could sense, but I did not know how to stop it.

And she would not forgive me.

In terms of my relationship with Lucius, if I _had_ expected our intimacy from the holidays to continue, I would have been sorely mistaken. Lucius soon reverted back to his old ways, and was perhaps even colder than before.

"He's busy," Rabastan would explain. Faithful Rab, the dutiful intercessor between the King and Queen of Slytherin.

I suppose in part that was true. Lucius had inherited a vast fortune, as well as property and businesses across Europe—a virtual empire. Of course he couldn't trouble himself with the likes of his fiancée.

Whenever I did approach him, he would purse his lips into a thin smile, struggling to control the annoyance my presence caused him. Half listening to my efforts at conversation, he would search for the earliest possible moment to hurry off to something more important.

If anything, it was those secret meetings that took up a majority of his time. They would occur at any hour of the day without notice or convenience, it seemed. Not able to fight my curiosity, I would often prod Rabastan with information about the dealings that occurred there.

"I'm sorry, Cissa, but I can't tell you anything," Rabastan would answer. "It's Lucius' orders to specifically not tell _you_ what goes on during the meetings. We're not even supposed to admit such meetings exist."

I let the matter go, albeit grudgingly. Rabastan was a friend, and I didn't want to get him into trouble by asking him more questions. And honestly, I was too frightened of Lucius to even bring the topic up with him. Childishly, however, I was curious as to what occurred during the meetings, and was hurt that Lucius didn't include me.

I couldn't have known then how naïve I was being. My innocent curiosity toward the meetings. My confusion over Audrey's behavior. But then, no one knew really what was to happen.

Hogwarts, by nature, always did seem distanced from the troubles of the real world. Those of us nestled there were blissfully ignorant of the gathering dark. Only the most sensitive of teachers—Dumbledore, most certainly—and the truest followers of the Dark Lord had any inkling of what was to come. I myself didn't realize the full extent of those days until years later.

Lucius made sure of it.

• • • • • • •

It was the morning of a Hogsmeade weekend, and the dorm was deserted. I slept in late because, per usual, Lucius was too busy to accompany me, and I did not feel like going by myself. I took comfort in lying in my bed, half asleep, lulled by the sound of the crackling stove.

The sound of Audrey's screams startled me awake. _"No! NO! Merlin, no!"_ Immediately, forgetting our childish squabbling, I rushed to her bed and threw back the curtains. Audrey sat sobbing on her bed, her nightgown and beddings soaked in blood. As soon as she saw me, she threw herself in my arms.

"Dear Merlin!" I gasped at the sight of the blood. My eyes raked over her body, trying to find the wound but couldn't. I hugged her to me, a vain attempt to stop her from shaking.

"_Cissy…"_

I felt tears forming in the corner of my eyes, and I held her closer. "Audrey, what happened?"

"_I—I lost it!"_ she cried, clinging to me. _"I lost the baby!"_

_

* * *

_

**A/N: **I know, I'm a horrible person. I haven't updated in an eternity and then I leave you with a cliff hanger. I promise, PROMISE, you won't have to wait a year for the next chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

"_A Pureblood son—an Heir—is a Pureblood wizard's crowning glory. It is in this way does one live forever."_

—_Musings of the Magical Life, 1985_

• • • • • • •

Audrey looked haggard and defeated when Madam Pomfrey finally allowed me to visit her in the infirmary. I had been sitting in the corridor all day, waiting for any news on Audrey's condition. It wasn't until dinner time did the stern young healer deem Audrey fit enough for company; and even then, she scolded that I wasn't to press Audrey with any questions until after a few days at least.

"She was pregnant, then?" I asked the healer.

Madam Pomfrey's mouth was set in a frustrated line. "That is, in fact, the only thing discernable about the situation. Miss Burke refuses to speak with me. All I have been able to gather, more from her body than anything she has said, is that the"—she glanced about furtively, whispering '_child,' _under her breath—"was conceived during the winter holidays." The healer looked at me, eyes narrowed. "She was your best friend, was she?"

I could hear the reproach in her voice. Yes, she was my best friend—the best friend who didn't tell me that she was over two months pregnant; who barely spoke to me all year.

"Mayhap she will talk to you," Madam Pomfrey said over her shoulder as she led me to Audrey's bed. She looked like a child lying on the narrow metal bed in the infirmary. She was balled on her side, facing away from me, as though protecting her now empty womb.

"Audrey, dear, you've company," said Madam Pomfrey gently, touching Audrey's shoulder. Audrey flinched, as though scalded by the healer's touch. "Don't stay too long, Miss Black. You'll tire her out." Deftly, she drew the curtains and left us.

"Audrey?" I said, sitting in the worn wooden seat next to the bed. "How are you feeling?" I asked her with an encouraging smile. Audrey drew herself into an even tighter ball. "Please, love. Tell me what happened."

Nothing but silence and Audrey's quick, shallow breathing filled the space between us.

"Madam Pomfrey said you were almost three months pregnant. Who did you meet during Christmas holiday?"

Audrey shook her head, her shoulders shaking as she began to sob. "No, no, no, no…" she cried. Madam Pomfrey swept in and shooed me away, shooting me menacing looks for disturbing her patient.

As I made my way back to the dorms, my mind raced with questions. Who was the father of Audrey's child? Would finding the answer to that question bring me closer to the truth of what happened to Audrey that caused such a drastic change in her behavior? Would it explain what happened to our friendship? Would it change a thing?

I remembered Audrey accusing me of not writing to her during the holidays. What happened to those letters? Lost via owl? Or kept away from me? And if the latter, _why?_ I knew of only one person who could answer my questions.

• • • • • • •

I found neither Lucius nor Rabastan in any of their usual haunts. The first year Severus squinted at me when I asked him, as though calculating some unknowable equation, but then shrugged and told me he had no knowledge of Lucius' whereabouts. I supposed it to be a lie, but let it go. He wouldn't tell me, even if I made some attempt at coercion—he was Lucius' through and through.

It wasn't until hours after the clock in the common room rang the curfew did Lucius and his set burst in, bright-eyed and laughing. Excitement and energy radiated from them so tangibly, I could feel it pulsing through the room. Something big had happened. I could easily spot Lucius amongst the throng; his usually pale face was flushed with exertion; his features animated more than I've ever seen them.

His eyes met mine from across the room, and I felt my heart leap rebelliously to my throat. Forcefully, I composed my features, angry at myself for being so unguarded. Lucius, sensing something amiss, became serious. Untangling himself from the crowd that surrounded him, Lucius began weaving his way toward me, only to be stopped by Severus. The first year whispered something in his ear, and I saw Lucius' face harden.

Suddenly, my desire to see him vanished. I know why Audrey couldn't tell me who the father of her child was—why I didn't receive any of her letters. Could _Lucius_ be…? My whole being revolted against the idea. Quickly, I stood and made my way to the stairs, descending to the dormitory. I didn't have the strength to face Lucius tonight.

The room I shared with the other sixth year girls was dark and empty. While I changed into my nightgown I carefully avoided looking at Audrey's bed, its linens stripped bare. The only indication of something horrible happening there was the slight lemony smell of the house elves' cleansing magic.

"Did you think you could escape me by simply going to sleep?" Lucius said from the darkness of the doorway.

I let out a shaky breath. "No… but I thought perhaps you would take the hint and not bother me."

He moved into the room, his presence filling up the small space. "I don't know. You looked quite ready to be bothered when I first arrived." He tugged one of the laces of my nightgown.

"Stop it." I stepped away from him, suddenly conscious of how close he was to me.

"In honesty, I was hoping you'd be more receptive to your intended. Tonight is a night for celebration."

"Celebration now that Audrey has miscarried your illegitimate child?" I silently cursed myself. It was not the most tactful way of broaching the subject, but the words slipped out before I could think to withhold them.

His gray eyes narrowed at me.

"What?" I goaded. "No denial? No defense?"

Lucius smirked humorlessly. "To what gain? It appears that you have already chosen to believe what you will."

"I don't know _what_ to believe, Lucius!" I nearly screamed, throwing up my hands in frustration. "My best friend almost died today. Her _child_ died. She is too scared or traumatized to tell me who the father is. And you have tried to keep us apart from the beginning. _You _hated the fact that we were friends. _You_ kept her from seeing me at Christmas. _You_ kept her letters from me. _Why?_ Did they contain the truth? Something you wanted to hide from me?"

"Yes, they did! I am only trying to _protect_ you, Narcissa."

"From what I can see, you are only trying to protect _yourself_," I sneered.

"I know things you don't. Unpleasant things not fit for you to hear. If I choose to keep you protected from such things, can you not be obedient and leave the matter be?"

"I am in all ways obedient to you!" I spat. "To the word. To the _letter_. I have no choice in the matter. You have dominion over my entire life!—can you not then give me the tiniest courtesy of knowledge?"

"You will not like what you hear." He sounded resigned now, and I knew that I had won.

I straightened, holding my head high. "It won't matter if it's the truth."

Lucius ran an elegant hand over his face, betraying his weariness. For a moment I wondered where he had been that night.

"The Burkes are traders," he began. "Common stock, despite their magical blood. Not canny businessmen, but what they lack in acumen they make up for in ruthlessness. Caractacus Burke, the worst of all."

"Audrey's grandfather?"

"Yes. He runs a shop in Knockturn Alley, and lately they've fallen on hard times. The man… _sold_ his granddaughter's services to pay his business debts."

White hot raged slowly filled me. I could feel my hands, my body, shaking with it. "Audrey… was _raped?"_

Lucius nodded. "Her grandfather lured her to the shop on the pretense of her helping during the holidays. It was a trap."

"_Who?"_

"Ah, love, you don't need to know."

"_Who raped Audrey?"_

He sighed. "Your future brother."

My body reeled with that pronouncement.

_Rodolphus Lestrange raped Audrey._

The words raced through my mind over and over. _Rodolphus Lestrange raped Audrey. Rodolphus Lestrange raped Audrey. _It became a mantra, a spell that only fed my anger.

"And the letters Audrey sent me?" I asked as an afterthought.

"I destroyed them."

"Why?" I asked in disbelief. "I could have helped her—protected her!"

Lucius shrugged artlessly. "I did not want your name to be associated with a whore's."

I slapped him—_hard._

His body tensed as he took the slap soundlessly. The muscle in his jaw jumped in constrained anger. _"Once,"_ he said quietly. "This _once_ I will excuse your actions because of your love for Audrey. But this is the last time you raise your hand against me without consequences, Narcissa."

"You're a monster," I said without heat, turning away from him.

"Be that as it may, I am still your master."

Not for the first or the last time, Lucius left me to cry. For my best friend, for her dead child, for myself.

• • • • • • •

**MAGICAL PRANK KILLS MUGGLE; SEVERAL INJURED**

_Ministry authorities have confirmed earlier this morning that 39-year-old Muggle Daniel Grint of Number 22 Whitburn Road, Lewisham, died late yesterday evening after being assaulted by a roving band of deviants. This incident was witnessed by Carla von Bergen, 52, a squib neighbor of Grint, who claims that the man's death was caused by magic._

"_I saw a flash of green light and explosions," von Bergen reported; "and then laughing. It sounded like a group of teenagers."_

_Unfortunately, von Bergen was unable to provide an accurate description of the group, since they were all wearing masks. Authorities have cited that the area had seen a noticeable rise in gang violence over the years, but never had any Muggles been injured. Muggle authorities are concluding that Grint died of a heart malady. The Ministry assures this reporter, however, that those responsible for this crime will be found and appropriate punishments dealt…_

I allowed the paper to fall from my hands. "They… they _couldn't have_…" I whispered in disbelief. The great hall around me buzzed as students speculated about the incident, which was reported on the front page of the _Daily Prophet_. Lucius, Rabastan, nor anyone else from their group were at breakfast that morning—absences not going without notice.

The girls seated around me gossiped mindlessly about other things, and I wished that Audrey were here to talk through this situation with me. I could almost hear her reasoning in my head.

"_You don't find it suspicious that this 'accident' happened the night Lucius and his set were missing for the night?"_

But it was in London! They were on the train with us—it would have taken them _hours_—

"_They're all of age, aren't they? They could have easily apparated there and back. They all know how."_

Yes, but to _kill_ a man? To actually use _Avada Ked_—no, I couldn't even finish the thought. It was a coincidence, surely.

A very, _big_ coincidence.


	11. Chapter 11

"_I drink," he said, "to the buried that repose around us." _

"_And I to your long life."_

—_Edgar Allan Poe, "The Cask of Amontillado," 1846_

• • • • • • • •

The Great Hall buzzed with students filing in after a busy school day, and once again the eyes of the entire student body—and more than a few teachers—were upon me. News of the London attacks had been quickly overshadowed by the more scandalous matter of Audrey's pregnancy and subsequent miscarriage.

Used to the furtive glances and hurried whispers, I ignored the scene and scanned the room, looking for the familiar pale face and grey eyes. Not surprisingly, Lucius wasn't there. He hadn't been to lunch, nor had I seen him at any other time during the day.

Obviously, he was avoiding me.

I spotted Rabastan toward one end of the Slytherin table, alone, hunched over his meal. He visibly tensed when I approached him.

"Merlin, I don't want to be in the middle of this anymore, Cissa," Rabastan murmured into his plate, before I could even say anything. "I'm done with it."

"All I want is to talk to him, and he's been dodging me all day."

"Is that so?" he said, voice dripping sarcasm. "I wonder what he means by that."

That stung. "All right, I see that you want to be left alone." I put a hand on his arm. "If you see Lucius, though, could you tell him—?"

Rabastan wrenched his arm away, cutting me off. _"I'm not your fucking page boy, Narcissa_!" His voice echoed throughout the room, which fell silent as people turned to look at us.

My face flamed. Rabastan looked around guiltily before returning to his food.

"You know what they're saying about Audrey, Rab?" I said to his averted face. "How she was pregnant? Your bastard brother raped her."

I had the satisfaction of seeing Rabastan's face drain of color before I left the hall.

• • • • • • • •

Lucius found me later that night.

"Doesn't it seem like our relationship has devolved into a series of confrontations?" he asked, when I walked into the sixth-year girls' dormitory, fresh from my bath. He was stretched out on my bed, flipping through a copy of _Witch Weekly_ he undoubtedly lifted from Hester's things.

With a sigh I tightened my robe around me and sat down at my vanity. "That's based on the assumption that we have a relationship," I replied without looking at him. "We don't have a relationship, Lucius. What we have is a contract."

Suddenly he was behind me. A white hand swept my hair aside. He looked up and caught my gaze in the mirror. "Weren't things so much easier at the Manor?" he asked, loosening the neck of my robe. He planted a light kiss on my suddenly bare shoulder. "You're much more pleasant this way, you know. Yielding, submissive, affectionate." His lips trailed up my neck.

I couldn't breathe. How I wanted to lean back against him, to feel his warmth against my body. To pretend that the events happened in the past few days—the past few months, really—simply _hadn't_. But time doesn't work like that. Audrey was gone—a Muggle was dead. And I knew that Lucius was involved in both.

"You've read today's _Daily Prophet_?" I asked. An instant mood-killer.

Lucius' hand dropped limply to his side, and he stalked the room, pretending curiosity at the little knick-knacks scattered on dressers and vanities. "Yes, of course," he answered finally. "Such a tragedy, wasn't it? The Falcons lost to Puddlemere again."

I ignored his quip. "Tell me the truth. Did you have anything to do with that Muggle's death?"

"Be careful, Cissy dear," he said, gaze darkening. "You are quickly becoming less amusing."

"Tell me you didn't do this," I said. _I pleaded._

"I didn't do it."

His face was perfectly straight, his voice sincere. I knew. "You lie."

"For Merlin's sake, Narcissa," Lucius snapped. "Yesterday I was a rapist, now I'm a murderer?"

"Where were you last night?"

His eyes were cold and narrowed. "I was here all night."

I stood and faced him. "No, you weren't. I was looking for you, and you and all your friends were gone from the castle."

Lucius quickly closed off the space between us. His hand—once again at my neck—wasn't a caress. "You are mistaken, love. I was here, and so were the rest. A house full of Slytherin can account for our whereabouts all evening, as well as my darling fiancée."

"You expect me to lie for you—?" I managed to choke out.

"There is no lying involved, pet. This is the truth. I was here the entire night, as was Rab and Avery and the rest. You will not deviate from this _truth_, Narcissa."

It was a command. The Vow couldn't change what I believed—what I _knew_—but inside me wove a spell that would forbid me to ever speak of it to anyone. Angry tears were hot on my face. Lucius still gripped me; his eyes burrowing into mine as though to read my rebellious thoughts.

"You can't do this, Lucius! A man is dead because—!"

My words were choked back as he lifted me off my feet and slammed me onto my mattress.

"_Shut your fucking mouth!"_ Lucius screamed in my face. He straddled me, one hand on my throat, the other trapping my hands over my head on the bed. Distantly I was aware that my robe had vanished—torn from my body.

"_Fuck you, Lucius,"_ I whispered fiercely. _"I know the truth. You're a murderer—!"_

Then the world went dark.

• • • • • • • •

When I woke up, every bone and muscle in my body burned with pain. I could barely move. I heard whispering and shuffling footsteps. Lucius' anxious face swam in my slowly brightening vision. And—oddly—Professor Dumbledore's.

"Professor…" My voice cracked from disuse.

"Do not try to speak, Miss Black," the headmaster said. "I understand that you are in a tremendous amount of pain. No need to add a sore throat on my account."

I looked beyond his grey face and registered the high arched ceilings and white bed-curtains. The gothic windows revealed the sun setting in the east. I was in the infirmary.

Professor Dumbledore glanced at Lucius with an expression I couldn't quite grasp. "It's school policy for the headmaster to review cases of magical maladies that seem beyond the ordinary. As you came here little less than three days ago exhibiting symptoms of very severe magical poisoning, you understand that I had to get involved."

"How exactly did I get here, Professor?" I rasped.

The older man grimaced. "Mr. Malfoy brought you in at two o'clock in the morning yesterday. You were unconscious—near death, from what Madam Pomfrey told me."

I turned my head to see Lucius, his face haggard. "What—what's wrong with me?" I asked, more to him than to the headmaster.

"Mind you, I am not a healer," Professor Dumbledore answered, "but it seems that you were suffering a form of magical poisoning. An overdose. I have seen symptom like these only in…" His voice drifted off, and I could practically see the thoughts forming. He looked to me, and then to Lucius, who sat stiffly on the wooden chair next to the bed.

"I did not realize that those who practice the Principle still used Unbreakable Vows for their betrothal ceremonies." He looked almost sad when he spoke the words.

"We have no idea what you're on about, Professor," Lucius answered coldly. "Narcissa and I were studying for a Charms exam, and one of our spells must have backfired."

"Yes, Charms homework at two in the morning is the likeliest answer. I commend your studiousness, then, if not your misguided reasons for protecting secrets I have already guessed."

"We appreciate your concern, Professor," Lucius said, almost dismissively.

Dumbledore smiled. "I doubt that very much, Lucius. But you must forgive a skeptical old man who has been witness to quite a few Unbreakable Vows and their side effects. Though I am surprised that they are still being used by the Old Families. Seems rather… _medieval_ of you."

Before Lucius could contradict him, he raised a hand to halt any gainsaying. "Now, Lucius, one does not get to my age and not learn about the world in which he lives. The principles of blood sanctity are still very much practiced, I know—to the detriment of the world at large, I dare say. You needn't be coy about it. The Blacks and the Malfoys have long been opposed to any sort of equality with non-magical people."

Lucius pursed his lips. "How can there be equality between things inherently unequal, Professor?" He said 'professor' as though adding the title was an afterthought.

"Ah, well, in terms of ability, I agree. Magical and non-magical are not equal. But we are not talking of ability. No, Lucius, we're discussing the right to _life_. A wizard child, for example, may not be as capable as an adult wizard, but both are living, and should have equal ability to do so freely."

"And when the weak becomes a parasite to the strong?" Lucius countered tersely. "Should not the strong defend itself?"

Another weary, almost sad smile from Dumbledore. "You quoted that perfectly. Word for word. A true prince of the Blood."

Lucius' face was dark—a curse undoubtedly twitched at his lips. "When will I be able to leave the infirmary, Professor?" I cut in, before the situation became even more heated.

Professor Dumbledore looked kindly on me. "I would say overnight, at least, Miss Black. Your body has suffered quite a blow… however it happened." He looked once again at Lucius before nodding farewell to me and striding quickly out of the room.

I realized then how infinitely tired I was. With a sigh I allowed myself to sink further into the pillows of the bed. Lucius leaned toward me and placed his hand over mine. I jerked away instinctively. His lips pursed.

"I suppose I deserve that."

"I almost died."

"You did die." He sounded defeated. He sounded like a child.

"What happened?"

"I took it back. I commanded you to live."

Had I been capable of it, I would have laughed. "That worked?"

He shrugged. A foreign gesture. "It must have. You began to breathe."

It was a long time before I spoke again. "I don't want you to be here, Lucius."

Weary, he rubbed his haggard face with his hands. "When can I return?"

I took a deep breath, summoning up the courage to say what I had to say. "Lucius, any affection that I might have had for you is gone. I can barely stand the sight of you. If you possess even the slightest ounce of mercy, I beg you to leave me alone. I know that I must marry you eventually. Until that day, stay away from me."


	12. Chapter 12

"Better to be at the right hand of the devil than in his path."_  
– Sumerian proverb, ca. 3000 B.C._

:::

Rabastan stared at me, his eyes undoubtedly lingering over my pallid complexion, shadowed eyes, and cracked lips. "You look like shit."

I merely nodded, already too tired to think up a clever retort. Taking my seat next to him at the table, I attempted to muster enough energy to feed myself. My body felt drained. The spell sickness was even worse than Dumbledore thought, and I had been in the infirmary for the past week. That morning I had felt well enough to leave, but now at lunch I was beginning to regret my decision.

"What happened to you, Narcissa?" Julia Nott asked me softly. "No one has told us why you've been in the infirmary." Several heads turned to listen in on the conversation.

"An errant spell," I said with a shrug, remembering the excuse Lucius gave the headmaster. It was half the truth, anyway: I had no control over the spell at all.

"Must have been bloody nasty spell," Rabastan replied, about to turn back to his food. Something at the Great Hall doorway caught his attention. "Oy! Lucius!" he called out. "Narcissa's returned from the infirmary."

I hadn't seen Lucius since I woke up in the infirmary for the first time. Not since I told him to stay away from me. Across the room, his eyes met mine and then went right through me. He walked past our group without a word to sit further up the table.

Everyone was silent. I tried to ignore it, but I could sense their questioning looks. Rabastan watched Lucius for a few moments then turned back to me, his eyes wide. _"What the hell did you do?"_

:::

Slytherin parted before me like water yielding to a passing ship. They all avoided eye contact, finding other things to stare at as soon as I glanced in their direction. Cutting through the common room, I grabbed a first-year who was too slow to move out of my way.

"What's going on?" I demanded. "Who ordered you to do this?"

The boy sputtered, his face going bright red.

Disgusted, I pushed him aside and watched as he scurried to his friends. Everyone else gave me a wide berth.

Across the room I spotted Julia and Hester, my supposed friends, casting glances and whispering under their breaths. My temper flaring, I strode over to them and slammed my book bag on the table. Scrolls scattered, loose papers flew in all directions. Neither one looked up at me. The only responses I received were the quick, worried glances they shot each other under hooded eyes.

"You are all cowards," I said, gathering my things. Stony silence followed me.

Shooting a confundus charm at the basilisk guard, I stole down two flights of stairs and entered the sixth-year boys' dormitory. A chorus of outraged yells and catcalls met my entrance. Rabastan was startled into a sitting position on his bed, face flushed.

"Bloody hell, Cissa!" he exclaimed, scrambling to put on a shirt.

"Gentlemen, would you be so kind and give Rab and me a couple minutes?"

They filed out obediently with only a minimum of sly glances and snickers. I had no doubt this little scene would be reported to Lucius straight away.

Rabastan leaned against his headboard, crossing his legs, feigning cool indifference. He even combed his fingers casually through his hair, still wet from a recent bath.

I took a deep breath. "What has happened, Rabastan? Have I been exiled?"

Holding up a finger, motioning me to wait, he pulled out his wand and tossed an anti-eavesdropping charm on it. "No, not technically," he answered when the spell was in place. "Lucius hasn't made any formal declarations yet, but it's not going unnoticed, how he's treating you. Everyone knows you've fallen from favor and now they're using Lucius' behavior as a model for how they should act. No one wants to get on Lucius' bad side." He shrugged, looking apologetic.

"Well, that explains it." I sat at the foot of his bed, infinitely weary. "There hasn't been any direct hostility. Not the way treated Cressida. Just feigned disinterest mostly. And whispers. Merlin, how I hate those whispers."

Rabastan's mouth skewed. "No direct hostility _now_. You know Lucius. It's bound to escalate," he said, sighing. "I haven't a clue what you did to him. I tried to ask, but he simply brushed me aside. Whatever it was…" He shook his head. "He's livid."

I would have laughed if I didn't feel so drained of energy. "What _I_ did to him? He almost killed me, and _he's_ upset?"

"So he was the reason you were in the infirmary for a week?"

The truth itched in my throat, but I forced myself to swallow it. Lucius had commanded that I not reveal the conditions of our betrothal, and there was no way to explain my sickness without revealing it. "Yes, he caused it," I confirmed. The spell allowed me that much.

Rabastan shook his head. "I don't know, Cissa. Lucius is usually levelheaded. Reasonable and logical in almost everything. Everything except you, apparently."

I tried to smile. "Not as reassuring as you might think," I told him.

"Give it a couple weeks. Lucius is bound to cool off eventually. Maybe things will go back to normal." He sighed wearily, rubbing his face with his hands. "That, at least, is my hope."

:::

I could hear them whispering about me—two Gryffindor fifth-years—from across the library. Only a week had gone by since Lucius publically snubbed me in the Great Hall and already the vultures were at it. The rumors crafted by Cressida all those months ago had resurfaced with a vengeance, and this time none of the Slytherin would defend me.

Keeping my head down, I struggled to concentrate on the Ancient Runes homework that my week in the infirmary caused me to miss. Their voices, however, carried effortlessly toward me.

"Yeah, _her_," said one shrill voice. "You remember all those rumors from before Christmas? _Apparently_, Lucius Malfoy had been keeping it quiet, since they involved him, too. Now that they've broken up or whatever, he doesn't care for the little slut anymore. So _apparently_, it was all true. Lucius is only now admitting it."

"Ha!" replied the other. "I'm not surprised at the slightest. It is so like her, you know. I wonder how she can bear to show her face at school at all now."

A spell itched at my lips. My grip tightened around my wand, ready to hurl a hex that would send them both to the infirmary.

"_Look out!"_ A scream tore through the library. Zipping between bookshelves and hastily ducked heads flew a fist-sized bottle of Iverson's Incredibly Indelible Ink. It hurtled through the room, toppling stacks of books and scattering loose papers in its wake. I swiftly whispered a shield charm and noticed a few other students doing the same. Not as quick-witted were the two Gryffindor girls, who stood wide-mouthed as the bottle rocketed toward them.

I'll admit, for the split second that it took me to raise my wand to cast a vanishing charm on the rogue ink bottle, I gleefully relished the idea of those two girls being pelted in the face with the bottle. Before I could cast the spell, however, a stocky, well-built Hufflepuff boy jumped onto a table and, with wand extended, cried out, _"Reducto!"_ The bottle shattered into a million tiny shards.

"_Aguamuto!"_ I was able to cast in time. The slivers of glass transfigured into water which harmlessly splashed the girls, though their clothes and faces were covered in the ink that no amount of scourgify would be able to clean off. So, a small victory.

"I'm so sorry," mumbled the boy, looking down at his feet. He had climbed off the table and approached the two girls. "I was practicing a levitating spell, and I must have said something wrong."

I wondered if that was a lie. From what I saw of the bottle, it looked as though it had been bewitched with an evading spell, similar to a snitch. Powerful magic, and in no way was it accidental. I glanced around the room, scanning the perimeter of a telltale pair of ice-blue eyes. Nothing but a smattering of students, righting toppled books and overturned chairs, collecting their papers.

Turning my attention to the trio, I wondered if the sharp-tongued wenches would let him have it. To my surprise they looked up at him under fluttered lashes and shot him coquettish looks.

"It could have happened to anyone," purred one girl.

"Thank you so much for saving us!" giggled the other. Quite ridiculously, I might add, given their ink-marred faces.

Eventually the girls trotted away, swaying suggestively, and at last, there was peace.

With a heavy sigh, the boy threw himself into the chair across from me. To my annoyance. I looked up and instantly realized why the girls were so quick to forgive him: he was an Adonis. Rich brown hair, golden eyes and shining white teeth. He smiled at me winningly.

I squinted at him. "You're an idiot."

That took him aback. "Excuse me?"

"You should have used a Vanishing spell on the bottle. No mess. Instead, you shattered it into a million tiny daggers. You could have seriously injured those girls if I hadn't stepped in."

"And here I thought you would have thanked me," he said, leaning back into his chair. He raised his wand, and without a word, levitated my own bottle of ink. "Do you really think I don't understand how to cast a simple levitation spell?"

"That's a very un-Hufflepuff thing for you to do. Lying and almost causing harm to a fellow student." If I didn't know better, I would have said this boy was a Slytherin.

He motioned in the direction of the door. "I hate girls like that. Gossiping and spreading rumors. They think they're pretty, but their jealousy makes them ugly. I wish I could have used the ink to spell that out on their foreheads," he said with a laugh. "Besides, I think coming to the defense of the weak is a noble Hufflepuff trait."

I plucked the ink bottle from the air and stuffed it into my bags. "I don't know who you think you are, but I don't need you to defend me."

"Whoa, Miss High and Mighty!" he said. "I don't remember saying I was defending _you_. I am merely an instrument through which the universe decided to mete out justice. That it was in your benefit is entirely coincidental. Jude Ellison," he added with hand extended. "Seventh year."

I narrowed my eyes at him. What were his motives for approaching me? Slowly, I returned the handshake. "Narcissa Black, sixth year," I said, watching his face for any change. There wasn't. "You really have no idea who I am, do you?"

"Should I?"

"Most people do. I'm not sure whether to feel gratified or insulted."

"Well, I just transferred here from an American academy a few weeks ago. My father was an ambassador, but retired over Christmas break."

"And I suppose you don't hear a lot of gossip?"

"Never cared for it," he answered with a shrug. "From my experience, it's mostly wrong anyway."

"Unfortunate. This school runs on them. How will you know whom to avoid or befriend?"

"That I have noticed," he said laughing. "I guess I'll have to chance it. What did you do to garner so much attention, if you don't mind my asking? Not that you need to tell me. The knight is merely a little curious about the damsel he's rescued from distress."

"Jealousy, as you said," I replied, unwilling to reveal my involvement with Lucius Malfoy.

"Oh, aye, that I could believe. You must be the most beautiful girl in Hogwarts."

I couldn't help my laugh, and a few ears perked up and turned our way. I could almost see the rumors begin. "Do these lines work for you in the States?" I teased, ignoring them.

He chuckled good-naturedly. "Usually the accent alone is enough to seal the deal. Moving home really evens out the playing field. Now I'm forced to rely on my wit and charm."

"Poor man. It will be a very lonely term, I imagine."

His hand flew to his chest, and he fell back against his chair. "Ack! Your sharp tongue slays me!"

:::

A hand grabbed my arm as I was walking to the dormitory and pulled me into an empty classroom, pushing me against a desk. Angrily, I looked up at Rabastan. I pulled my arm away from him, nursing the marks he made. "What the hell are you doing, Rab?"

"You want to tell me what that was today in the library? Is this your idea of giving Lucius a couple weeks to cool off?" His body was tense. I could see the muscles jumping in his jaw.

I didn't try to feign ignorance. "That was fast. Do you have someone following me?"

His laugh was harsh. "I don't need to. You can't walk three feet without the entire castle hearing about when and with whom. And you can bet Lucius is hearing the exact same thing I am."

"And what exactly is that?"

"That some bloody Don Juan transfer student rode to your rescue in the library. Swept you off your feet. Love at first sight—all that bullshit."

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear, Rab," I said, trying to push past him to the door.

Grabbing my shoulders, he pushed me back against the desk. _"What in Merlin's name are you playing at, Narcissa?"_ Rabastan said forcefully.

"Who exactly is asking? Rab the friend or Rab the messenger from Lucius?"

"Rab the one who doesn't want to see an innocent bystander get injured while you and Lucius play your _stupid_ little game with each other!"

My hands clenched at my sides. How dare he? "You think this is a _game_ for me? It was never a game, Rab. It wasn't a game when Audrey was _raped_. It wasn't a game when she sat bleeding in her bed. It wasn't a game when I almost_ died _because_ Lucius—!_" I stopped before I said something I would regret. Already I heard the Vow humming. It knew what I was going to say.

We stood together for several minutes, silently seething. At last Rabastan said, "You know, I get it. You both hate each other. But honestly, Narcissa, if you think that flirting with this Ellison nobody will hurt Lucius, you are wrong. The only one you will end up hurting is yourself and the one you're using. Because even if he's ignoring you, Lucius will not stand idly by and watch you flirt with another man while you two are still engaged."

I snorted. "Then he can just look away," I said and left the room.

:::

It was the one of the last Saturdays of March, and the sun was shining gloriously. There was not a trace of snow on the ground, and already we could hear the birds chirping, coming out of their winter hiding places. It was strange how the world doesn't stop when your universe comes crashing down around you. Audrey was gone, I was an outcast, and the world keeps spinning.

"And what have you planned for this gorgeous, spring day?"

I looked up at Jude, and my mood instantly brightened. "Not a damn thing," I answered. "I've finally caught up on my missed school work, and my entire house hates me, so I'm free for the day."

"That's the spirit!" he said with a smile and pulled me to my feet.

Exiting the Great Hall, I savored the dark looks I felt from the Slytherin table with only a niggling feeling of guilt. They could call me a traitor. Lucius started this war, and I was only fighting with the weapons I had.

In truth, Jude's company had been a comfort, albeit his presence had exacerbated the situation. The Slytherins who had been staying out of the contention at the beginning all sided with Lucius now and even Rabastan refused to speak to me. He felt that it had been in my power to end things, and I purposely chose not to. Of course, I didn't see it that way. Lucius forced this on all of us, and I was the one punished for it.

We made our way out to the lake and situated ourselves on a shaded bank. "I'll bet you a gold galleon that you have never caught a fish in your life," he said unpacking the gear he carried. He produced two fishing poles from one of the pockets.

"That's as worthless as betting the sun will shine tomorrow. What's the point? _Accio fish!"_ A good-sized mountain trout flew through the air toward us. Jude caught it easily with a practiced hand and set the slimy creature gently back into the water.

"Now, now, Miss Black. There shall be no cheating." He handed me a pole.

"Seems much less humane," I said, eying the hooks.

"Hmm, I see your point. Hopefully, we won't catch anything then!" He settled down on the edge of the lake, pole in hand, and looked up at me like an expectant puppy. Big brown eyes and all.

I sighed. "Oh, all right."

At noon a house elf brought out a packed lunch for Jude and me. The house elf—Mimsy, he called her—was obviously in love with him and stared daggers at me while Jude rummaged through the basket. Soon we were munching on warm bread, cheese, and cold meat cuts. There was also a flagon of pumpkin juice.

Half way around the lake, we spied a group of male students tearing their shirts off and charging into the water.

"Fools," I said with a laugh. "It's too early to go swimming. This lake is mountain fed. The water must be freezing." As though on cue, shouts erupted from the group, and they dragged themselves out of the water.

"Much too cold to swim," agreed Jude. "But the sun is pretty warm. Do you mind?" He gestured to his shirt.

"Not at all," I answered, and he nimbly stripped off his shirt, tossing it aside and revealing an enormous bruise on his chest. "How on earth did you get that bruise?"

"Oh this?" he said distractedly. He had already begun fishing again. "A Potions mishap. I must not have read the directions correctly. The explosion knocked me out for a bit."

"You take Potions with Slytherins, don't you?"

He shrugged. "Of course, it's the only seventh-year NEWT-level Potions Class."

"With Lucius Malfoy?" I prompted.

"Tall bloke with long blond hair, right? A ridiculous fashion." He ran a hand through his own short-cropped hair.

"No, it's not a fashion for Lucius. It's a symbol."

"What do you mean?"

"He wears his hair long because it symbolizes wealth," I explained. "He's wealthy, so he doesn't have to work and keep his hair out of his face. The drawl he uses? It's a symbol of status and power—to signify that the world must wait for him, to cater to _his _whims. If you notice, he doesn't eat with females because he believes bread should only be broken among equals." Which is why he doesn't eat meals with me anymore, I added silently.

Jude gave me a sidelong glance. "Sounds as though you understand him pretty well."

"I've known Lucius Malfoy almost my entire life. We're…" I stopped, unsure whether I should divulge that little bit of information.

"Weren't you engaged?" he said, looking out over the water.

_Engaged._ Past tense. Not technically correct, but I nodded anyway.

"He seems a bit callous towards the ladies," he continued. "Not very attentive when they're together. Like the girl he's with now—."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, didn't you hear?" His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I thought you heard all the gossip. He's seeing some Ravenclaw seventh-year. Priscilla James. They say she's the reincarnation of Rowena Ravenclaw, herself."

I knew of Priscilla James. Buxom and clever—just Lucius' type. "Look at you, brushed up on the latest news." I couldn't keep the twinge of bitterness out of my voice.

Jude grinned sheepishly, unaware of my tone. "Yes, well, they were saying how she was prettier than you, so I pounded them into the wall."

"My hero." My heart was not in it.

:::

It was dusk when we returned to the castle, parting ways in the courtyard. Whistling and happy, face and torso brown from a day in the sun, Jude made his way to cellar entrance of the Hufflepuff common room. My own mood was infinitely blacker.

The dorm room was empty when I arrived. The other girls were probably still out studying or with their friends in the common room or library. During the past few weeks, I had made it a habit to go to bed earlier than my roommates, as to avoid any awkwardness my presence would create. It was easier for all of us that way. It was physically painful remembering the good times we once had in our room, especially when Audrey was still with us.

I was about to slip into bed when I felt a presence behind me.

"Don't move," Lucius said from the shadows. I watched him approach me from the mirror of my vanity. "Do you miss me yet?" he asked.

Hands smoothed down my side, their warmth apparent through the thin fabric of my nightgown. Tugging my sleeve down, he kissed my bare shoulder. Images unbidden came to mind: Lucius brushing my hair on Christmas morning—his mouth against me—I pushed the thoughts away.

"Of course not," I finally managed to reply.

There was a smile in his voice. "Quickened breathing, accelerated heart rate, flushed skin. You, Cissy dear, are lying… _unconvincingly_." He circled me until we were face to face.

"You shouldn't be here," I said, looking away from him. "Priscilla wouldn't approve."

His laugh was genuine. "As though I cared a wit for how she feels. You should know that by now, Narcissa."

"That you don't care for anyone but yourself? You're right. I should have known that by now." I crossed my arms, as though to shield myself from him. "What do you want from me?"

"You know that, too." His lips descended on mine, stifling my protests. Distantly, I heard the shattering of glass on stone, as he half carried me to the vanity and deposited me on its surface. An expert knee parted my legs, and he stood between them. Strong hands caressed my exposed thighs, and then they moved up, tangling in my hair.

Finally, I tore away from him. He stepped back, his face red and breathing heavy. "I hate that I can smell him on you," Lucius said, his voice rough. "Stop seeing him."

"What would you have me do, Lucius?" I demanded, climbing down from the vanity.  
Simply forget all that's happened? Pretend that the past few months have simply been a terrible dream?"

"I could make you forget."

"Yes. Command me to forget, and when the random thought strikes me, I'll drop dead. Or you could obliviate me. And every time you mess up, would you just obliviate me again? Until I become a mindless drone at your disposal?"

"The mouth on you, woman," Lucius said, a wry smile tugging his lips. "I had almost forgotten." He approached me again, and his kiss this time was soft. "Does your new beau kiss you like this? Does he touch you like this?"

I turned away from him and placed my hands on the cool surface of the vanity. I stared at Lucius' reflection in the mirror. His eyes never left mine. "We're only friends."

"Nonsense. No one approaches a woman to be _friends_."

"And what is Priscilla James to you then?"

"A diversion," he answered, drawing his arms around my waist.

"So can't Jude Ellison be my diversion?"

"To your little thoughts and coy smiles, he's welcome. I care not. But this…" His hands slid over my nightgown, and he cupped my breasts possessively. "This body is mine."

I couldn't help myself. I rested against him—solid behind me. It felt so good, so right, this power he held.

He caught me watching him in the mirror. "Do you enjoy this?" he asked. "Voyeuristic, isn't it? Will you watch what I do to you?"

I was powerless to speak, let alone object.

Lucius unbuttoned the nightgown, a familiar gesture for him, and swept it up and over my head. "Look at yourself."

I obeyed. My pale skin, bare from the waist up, glowed from the single candle that lit the room. The chain with his ring hung low between my breasts. I had never taken it off. He traced the line of the chain with one hand and gathered me against him. With the other hand, he ventured lower, sliding down my stomach and beyond.

My breath caught in my throat at the intimacy of his touch. I attempted to squirm out of his grasp, but his hold on me was firm. A finger slipped between my folds, and I gasped. His finger made slow, maddening circles against my flesh, and the room began to spin.

"Lucius…."

"Open your eyes, Narcissa." His voice was thick in his throat.

I opened my eyes—I didn't realize I had closed them. My reflection stared back at me through heavy lids. Lips swollen, body splayed scandalously, I did not recognize myself. It was a different woman in the mirror. The woman wore my face, but _she_ was more mature—_worldly_. And when Lucius sank a finger into her, she let out a moan, which shocked me.

"All of this is mine," Lucius said fiercely. "Do you understand? This body belongs only to me."

Of their own accord, my hips thrust against his hand. Merlin, how I wanted to wrap my legs around him and pull him into me. To feel his body over me, pressing down against me. I ached with the want of it. Lucius held me tight and covered me with kisses.

Then, just as suddenly as he appeared, he vanished leaving me exposed, shaking and alone.

**A/N: **While preparing this chapter, I reread the last eleven in quick succession, and I can't help but notice how my writing style has changed over the years. I hope it doesn't bother you guys. I can't decide whether or not I like the change. Anyway, thank you very much for your continued forbearance with my lack of updating. Your comments spur me to be a better writer (and updater!). Much love.


	13. Chapter 13

"_The maiden listened, puzzled, and finally replied, 'You speak well, Warlock, and I would be delighted by your attentions, if only I thought you had a heart!'"_

—_f__rom The Warlock's Hairy Heart, The Tales of Beedle the Bard, ca. 15__th__ century_

:::

Lucius' mouth was at hot on my neck; his hands roamed freely over my nightgown, cupping—teasing—drawing shallow, excited gasps from my lips. It was bliss the way he moved against me, the softness of my body yielding to the hard planes of his.

Suddenly, Lucius was gone. It was Rodolphus Lestrange who loomed over me, his cold black eyes wild. Panicking, I struggled to get away, but his hands were iron clasps pulling me toward him. It was his hands on my body now, grasping and clawing at me. I contorted in agony, but my throat closed—screaming was impossible. On her bed beside mine, Audrey sat in a pool of blood that ran over the sheets into a puddle on the floor. Her eyes stared unseeing, and in the distance Lucius began to laugh—!

I woke up in a cold sweat. Again.

Moonlight poured in between the half-opened bed curtains. Peaceful snores emanating from my roommates' beds assured me that I was safely in my room at Hogwarts. The pain and terror that had gripped me only moments before began fading into a memory of the familiar dream: one that plagued me at least once a week since Audrey's miscarriage. Glancing over at her still-vacant bed, the old wound ached.

Shivering, I realized tonight's dream was new. Never before had it involved Lucius, whose hot, greedy caresses still branded my chilled skin. Steeling myself against the memories created over the past few months—memories of Audrey, of _Lucius_—I turned over and attempted to fall back to sleep. No crying, I swore to myself; not tonight, not again.

I would be damned if any more tears were wasted on Lucius Malfoy.

:::

**THE THREAT GROWS**

_Previously only rumors, there have been confirmed reports of a dark wizard amassing followers in the south east and central England. Though the wizard has not yet been identified, witnesses claim that his followers refer to him as 'Lord Voldemort,' or simply, 'the Dark Lord.' Ministry officials, however, have not yet been able to pin any crimes on this dark wizard or his followers known as 'Death Eaters.' _

"_Though he may be gaining followers," commented one Ministry of Magic department head, "there has been no hard evidence linking him or his group to illicit activities. There have been accusations, but unless the Ministry can pin him to any recent unsolved crimes, his group is nothing more than a social club." _

_Should any wrongdoing be pinned on the group, the Ministry assures this reporter that all measures will be taken to bring the perpetrators to justice. Readers will remember that Europe has not seen a dark wizard rise to power since Gellert Grindelwald who, of course, was defeated by the current Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore in 1945…_

"G'morning, love." Jude Ellison slid into the seat next to me. Several girls shot me jealous glares. Jude, despite only a few weeks at Hogwarts, was fast gaining a name for himself and becoming a coveted dining companion due to his charm and good looks. That I did not deserve his attentions was a fact universally agreed upon by the female student body. "Anything interesting?" he asked, indicating the newspaper.

"Just the same tired story about the dark wizard," I said, neatly folding the newssheet in half and tucking it away for later. "I don't know why they bother reporting that they haven't found anything worth reporting about."

"Charging the masses to read about nothing at all. Sounds like good journalism to me." Jude helped himself to my own untouched plate of food. "Easter break next week," he continued. "Are you staying here?"

I sighed inwardly. As appealing as a week of empty hallways and mealtimes sounded, I was forced to shake my head no. Easter had been claimed by Bellatrix as her wedding weekend. The peaceful Scottish highlands of Hogwarts would be exchanged for the bustling madness of London, catering to my flighty sister's every whim.

On top of the usual stresses associated with the planning and implementation of a Blooded wedding, of course, were the twin horrors of Rodolphus Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy. I would be forced to associate with the two men at every turn, as one was the groom and the other the best man. To say that I was dreading this upcoming week was an understatement. No one ever gives advice on how to interact with a man who was definitely a monster and another who gave every appearance of one.

Knowing what Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix's fiancé, had done to Audrey sickened me. He was repulsive brute, but worse was my inability to tell her—_warn_ her—of her future husband's true character. Countless scrolls were wasted in my attempt to reveal to Bellatrix what I had learned about Rodolphus Lestrange. Each time, however, my courage flagged, and the letter would be torn to shreds. The question repeated itself in my mind: would I want someone to tell me if my own future husband—if _Lucius_—had done what Rodolphus Lestrange did?

The answer was: I don't know.

Lucius was not perfect. My face burned with the memory of that night in the girls' dormitory with Lucius that demonstrated just how _im_perfect he was. If anything, he was Slytherin, through and through, but that did not make him evil. Not in the way I knew Rodolphus Lestrange to be evil.

Or perhaps that was only what wanted to believe.

As though hearing my black thoughts, Lucius looked up from where he sat and our eyes met from across the Great Hall. His eyes narrowed in a question. I turned away quickly, but I still felt his gaze on me when moments later, an unfamiliar barn owl dropped a package in my lap.

The insistent owl nibbled my finger while I carefully opened the brown paper parcel and dumped out its contents onto the table. Dozens of letters addressed to Audrey in my hand poured out. All remained unopened; 'return to sender' scratched across each one in red ink.

Stifling tears and cursing myself for it, I stuffed the letters into my book bag and mumbled some sort of apology to Jude. I hurried away from the hall to prevent making a fool of myself.

The castle melted away behind me as I blindly tramped through the woods, heedless of the bells chiming for morning classes. Instinctively, my feet carried me down to the lake where I paced aimlessly on its gently sloped embankment. Fist clenched at my sides, head throbbing in anger and humiliation and pain—I wanted so badly to hurt someone.

A twig snapped, and I spun, wand raised against my intruder.

Rabastan stood just clear of the stand of trees, his arms up protectively. "It's just me."

"What do you want?" I challenged, my wand still raised against him.

"Nothing. I just wanted to see if you were all right."

"This doesn't concern you, Rab. Go back to the castle."

"Go ahead," he said, walking slowly towards me, his arms still raised, as though in surrender.

"_What?"_ I snapped back.

"Go ahead and scream. No one else is out here to hear you. I know you want to," he added, sensing my hesitation.

"No, I'm stronger than this." The tip of my wand wavered. "I'm stronger than what you all thing of me. You think I can't hear what everyone is saying? Everyone is just counting down the days until I break. All of you can go fuck yourselves."

Rabastan smiled, not unkindly. "I know you better than you know yourself, Cissa. You've been on the verge of tears for days now. Just let go."

"_Confringo!"_ A bolt of red shot from my wand, shocking us both.

He managed to throw up a shield charm in time. The spell ricocheted off his defense and hit a nearby tree, causing it to explode into fiery shards. I stood staring at the charred remains of the sapling, stunned at what could have happened.

Swiftly, Rabastan grabbed my arm and wrested the wand from my grip, jolting me out of my reverie.

Twisting away from him, I turned toward the lake and screamed: an angry, wordless cry that sent wildlife scurrying in every direction. For several seconds the scream echoed off the water until my throat grew hoarse, and my knees buckled. He caught me, and I crumpled against his chest, finally allowing myself to let go.

We sat together, limbs tangled, at the edge of the bank as I sobbed my frustration into his robes. The water lapped gently at our heels, as he rocked me back and forth.

"She'll never forgive me, Rab," I said after a while.

He kissed my forehead and held me tighter. "It's going to be all right."

:::

Jude saw me onto the train to London that Friday with a bouquet of wild flowers—"picked from the banks of our favorite lake," he said with a wink and a kiss on my hand. He handed me up with a flourish and a bow. Girls, around us on the platform and peeking out from their compartments, sighed enviously. I managed a weak smile for him before finding Rabastan cloistered in his own compartment.

"I'm glad you're getting away from him for a week," Rabastan said, not bothering to look up from his paper when I sat on the seat opposite. Apparently, he had seen the embarrassing display on the platform. "There's something not quite right about him."

"I find him charming and incredibly sweet," I answered, rising to Jude's defense. Silently, though, I had to agree with Rabastan. Despite his open and pleasant demeanor, there was something about Jude that seemed… off.

"He's _too_Hufflepuff," said Rabastan thoughtfully. "Almost to the point of perfection. No one is that unerringly polite and accommodating. It is simply not possible—it must be an act."

"Oh, of course, because no one can possibly be a decent person at this school," I said, rolling my eyes.

Rabastan shook his head and gave me a look, clearly deploring my naivety. "The Principle teaches us that all desirable traits—magical traits, cleverness, beauty, as well as goodness and kindness—are housed in the Blood," he said matter-of-factly. "It follows, then, that they are also inheritable traits. However, truly good and kind people would be the first to be killed off in times of famine, disease, or conquest. Killed by someone taking advantage of their hospitality long before they could reproduce. Any goodness now left in the world is ultimately self-serving. The only mystery here is to what end."

"That was heartbreakingly cynical, Rab."

He shrugged. "Can't stay innocent and naive forever," he answered brusquely.

"It wouldn't be too far-fetched to assume, then," I ventured, "that you've been friendly to me this entire week not due to some goodness of heart, but due to some other reason? Because Lucius ordered you to, perhaps?"

"Would it upset you if I said he did?"

"Yes."

"Then, no," he said. After a moment, he continued, almost in apology: "He really does care for you."

"If that's the case," I said with a derisive snort, "perhaps it should have been him at the lake."

"Would you have even allowed him to come near you?"

Unlikely, considering the hostile reception that Rabastan had received that day. "Maybe not," I admitted with a sigh. "There's…too much between Lucius and me to explain."

"He sent me that day to look after you," he said, a tinge of bitterness in his voice. "Even made me promise to stay with you this week. Make it easier on you. Think what you want, Cissa, but Lucius loves in his own way."

"And that's the problem, isn't it? Lucius can only love in his own way. Possessively—_hurtfully._"

Rabastan threw up his hands in exasperation. "What do you expect, Narcissa? Love with a Slytherin is essentially selfish—that's who we are!"

"No, no—I can't believe that. That's not what love is."

He laughed. A condescending, grating sound. "I am surprised you've survived as long as you have without learning this simple truth: All love is self-serving. Even Andromeda"—I winced at his use of her name—"loved selfishly. Did she care about who she hurt when she ran away with that mudblood? She knew what would happen when she left—what would happen to _you—_and she didn'tcare. That's true love. She was a Slytherin, after all, even if she is a blood traitor."

"Shut your filthy mouth, Rabastan," I said weakly, knowing he spoke the truth.

"I'm sorry I mentioned it," he replied, shaking his head. "I didn't mean to bring up… _her_."

We sat in silence for a few moments, each lost in our own thoughts. Finally, I said, "We're Slytherin, too. Does your theory apply to us?"

He looked away before speaking, his answer devoid of any emotion: "Your best friend was raped in December and had a miscarriage in March. She was abandoned and alone because of how you treated her. She fled the school, half dead, in shame and humiliation. It's only been a month, and already you expect her to forgive you."

My face burned. Was that how he saw me? "I—that's not—!"

"And me?" he interrupted. "Well, I covet my best friend's fiancée, who can, in fact, be a genuinely kindhearted, well-intentioned person when not acting like a complete idiot. For a long time, I actually tried to sabotage their relationship, whispering exaggerations and half-truths in their ears, hoping that they would both come to their senses. I don't know whether it's fate or foolishness how they barrel toward each other like two trains on a collision course, but I've a feeling that it would be best to call it quits now before I'm the one that gets caught in the crash."

"Rab…." I reached for his hand.

He stood, brushing me off. "You know what, I've talked enough for today. I'm of age. I'll be apparating the rest of the way."

"No, wait—!" But it was too late. With a _'pop!'_—he was gone.

:::

The train pulled into King's Cross a few hours later. As always, Topsy appeared at my elbow, gathered my things, and disapparated back to the house. I was left at the platform, craning my neck to see over the crush of students in a futile attempt to locate Mother… or a driver, at least.

Unexpectedly, the crowd parted and there stood Lucius, a scowl etched on his handsome face. "Come," he said, succinctly. "We're late." Grabbing my arm abruptly, he led me through the bustle.

"Wait! _Wait!_" I tried to bat him away, but his hold was firm. Why did everyone feel they had license to manhandle me? Planting my feet firmly, I managed to halt our progress. "Where are you taking me?"

Lucius sighed at my apparent ignorance. "Were you not informed?"

I managed to wrench my arm from his grip. "Obviously not. No one has told me anything."

"I have been instructed to escort you to Lestrange Manor for tea. Then there will be rehearsal for the wedding."

"Take me home first," I demanded, putting a hand to my travel-worn hair and outfit.

"You look lovely, as always," said Lucius. The compliment was not as gratifying as one would expect, since he had already begun to walk off. "Follow or not," he called over his shoulder. "Your choice."

Quickening my pace to match his long stride, we walked a block or so to a Floo Station. Lucius ushered me closer to the public fireplace after tossing a few coins to the proprietor and dropped a fistful of floo powder into my cupped hands.

"Remember, _Lestrange Manor_." He said it slowly, as though I were a child.

I pursed my lips and nodded, annoyed with his highhandedness. Lucius had not spoken to me for the better part of a month, and I had almost forgotten how domineering he was. I briefly considered calling out the wrong destination to spite him, but in the end thought against it for fear of being stranded in some unknown location.

The floo roared with green flames as I stepped through it into the Lestrange Manor foyer; Lucius followed close behind. He stopped beside me and brushed dust from my dress as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

An elderly, but regal-looking, house elf greeted us. "Mr. Malfoy and Miss Narcissa," said the house elf, nodding solemnly. "Please, you are both expected. Follow me."

"Ah, there she is." Mrs. Lestrange, the tall, queenly matriarch of the Lestrange family, rose from her seat at our entrance to the parlor. She greeted me with a kiss on the cheek. "We were worried you had lost your way, my dear. Rabastan said he tried to look for you at the station, but alas, you were gone."

"I'm sorry Mrs. Lestrange. I did not realize Rab was looking out for me."

Rabastan, seated at the far corner of the room, had the decency to tinge slightly with shame.

"It is my duty apologize, Mrs. Lestrange," Lucius said silkily, kissing her hand. "Our tardiness is entirely my fault. My fiancée and I took advantage of our… solitude. I did not realize the time."

I could have strangled Lucius for what he was insinuating. Mother and Father, seated together on a tidy little couch, grinned idiotically up at Lucius. Rabastan grew even redder and carefully examined his teacup. Mrs. Lestrange smiled serenely.

"Malfoy, you old dog," said a smooth voice from behind me.

My breath lodged in my throat. Slowly, I turned around to face the man who approached us.

He was not as I remembered. In my dreams he had wild, dangerous eyes, and a ravaged mien. In actuality, Rodolphus Lestrange had a wide, handsome grin that was more mischievous than murderous. His dark brown hair was neatly combed, every strand perfectly in place, and the suit he wore spoke of opulence and taste. This was not the same man I had nightmares about on a weekly basis. Still, I trembled as he drew nearer, and only Lucius' steady hold on my arm prevented me from falling over.

Lucius took Rodolphus' proffered hand with his free one, but skillfully placed himself between me and the man I loathed with my entire being. "Lestrange, it is good to see you again. You're looking well."

"For a man so soon to be married, you mean," Rodolphus added with a laugh. Damn it, even his laugh was charming. "And Narcissa! It's good to see you again."

I, unable to claw his eyes out, forced a polite smile on my face and merely returned his docile greeting.

:::

"You just would not believe the wedding-planning _hell_ I've put my dear Dolphie through these past few months. The man is a saint!" Even the raucous music of the secret night club could not drown out Bellatrix's screeching laughter. Bracing myself against her shrieks and a long night ahead of me, I downed my second shot of firewhiskey.

After the wedding rehearsal, Bellatrix practically dragged me out on her "last night of freedom," which she swore she could not properly celebrate without her darling sister. Upon arriving at the exclusive club, however, Bellatrix promptly drank herself to her desired level of inebriation and forgot all about me. Underage and more than slightly lost, was marooned with the shipwreck that was my sister.

"Do not drink that," said Rabastan, sliding beside me in the booth. He took the half-empty bottle I had found neglected on the table and placed it beyond my reach. "Trust me, Cissa, you do not want to be drunk and out of it with this lot."

That sobered me up. "What do you want?" I asked rudely.

"Sorry I abandoned you on the train," he answered. "Got a bit riled up, but I shouldn't have left you like that. If it counts for anything, I tried to get back, but the train prevents people from apparating into it, apparently."

"Don't worry about it," I said with a sigh. "Everything worked out."

He brought his face close to mine, so I could hear him over the music. "I'm not sorry for what I said though. I don't take it back. Didn't like how I left, is all."

I put my hand over his on the table. "You and I are good," I reassured him. We were—we had to be. He was my best friend after all.

"Are you holding up okay with…"—he gestured to our two siblings who had found each other in the crush of people on the dance floor.

"Well enough, I suppose."

"Have you told Bella…?" He let the question hang. There was no need to finish it—we both knew what he asked.

"There hasn't been time, and honestly, I'm afraid to. I'm a coward, Rab. I'm afraid of telling her and breaking her heart. Worse, what if I do tell her, and she doesn't care?"

Rabastan slipped an arm around my shoulders. "Then you'd been in the same predicament I'm in." His lips drew back in a humorless smile. "'My brother, the monster.' It has a nice ring to it."

"I'm sorry, Rab."

He shook his head, brushing me off. "Stop saying sorry when it's not your fault. You didn't ask for this, and neither did I. How are we the ones most burdened by it, then?"

"I suppose neither of us has then enviable trait of being able to switch off our consciences when it inconveniences us."

"Not a switch," said Rabastan, "but a cloak." His face was still and pale, even in the semi-dark of the club. "It wasn't always like that. You're not supposed to take it off, but when you do it the first time, it gets easier. Donning and shedding my conscience as I choose. But it's so hard to put back on… after a while, it's easier just to leave it off."

"What are you talking about, Rab?"

He started, and color returned to his cheeks. "I—nothing. Just thinking."

"I've never known you to philosophize," I said, attempting to lighten the mood.

With a sardonic grin, he tossed back the drink he took from me. "When you've lost your morality, philosophy is all you have left."

* * *

**A/N:** I solemnly swear, even if it takes me years to finish (oh, and it probably will), this story shall not be abandoned. Have a little faith in me. :)


	14. Chapter 14

"_If there is an injury, then you must give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, bruise for bruise, wound for wound."  
~ Exodus 21:23 - 25_

:::

Druella Rosier Black was not the kindest of mothers. "Narcissa," she said down the length of her pointed nose, "tell your sister how frumpy her gown looks with long sleeves. I will be the laughingstock of the entire town should she walk down the aisle in that dress."

"Mother," I said with a sigh, "there are very few things you should confront a bride with on the morning of her wedding. The frumpiness of her gown is not one of them."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes from where she stood at her mirror. "We have been over this before, Mother-dear. I _will _have long sleeves on my gown. If you cannot abide it, well, you can go to hell for all I care."

Mother pinched her lips together, eyes narrowing dangerously. "At least the hideous color will take notice away from the sleeves," she replied after a moment, effectively closing the subject. "See to your sister, Narcissa. I wash my hands of her." Mother left the room with a sniff.

"She's always had a stick up her arse. I'm through with her as well. After today, I'm never setting foot back in this damned house again." Bellatrix gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Despite her earlier bravado, there was a tinge of worry in her voice when she asked, "How do I look, Cissy?"

For my part I did not mind the length of Bellatrix's sleeves, which tapered to points at her wrists. The dress itself was made of heavy silk in a deep crimson that bordered on black. Atop her head she wore a matching veil. Everything about the regal dress flouted convention. It may have offended Mother's prudish sensibilities—and it wasn't exactly to my tastes either—but it suited Bellatrix perfectly.

Thankfully, the bridesmaids' dresses weren't so outlandish. My own outfit was an elegant pewter taffeta that rendered my blue eyes smoky gray. I charmed my hair to sit on top of my head in an elegant bun and cascade down my back in soft curls. The image in the mirror was that of a sophisticated society miss, not a sheltered schoolgirl I knew I was.

"Yes, you paint a pretty picture, Cissy dear, but aren't you supposed to be admiring _me_?" Bellatrix comment nudged me from my reverie.

"Of course you know you look ravishing, Bella," I said, coming to stand next to her at the mirror. "Though Mother is right about the sleeves. You'll be sweltering."

"Fie! It's early April, for Salazar's sake! The only one between us who'll be sweltering is _you_ from all those pervy looks Malfoy sends you!"

"Ugh!" I pushed her playfully, and she laughed. "You must be aware that Lucius and I are barely on speaking terms. If it were possible, I'd have cried off by now, but—well, you know."

"Has it been that bad?"

"There was once a time when I thought marrying Lucius would solve all our problems. It was foolish to think that. There's been nothing but misery for me since we've been engaged. Our family may have saved face from the Andro—_other_—situation, but no one's asked me my part of it. How it's been on me."

"Marriage is like that," Bellatrix said with a shrug. "You write up a contract, you get married, and you're gone. You vanish into the other person like you don't exist. And you don't. Not like you did, anyway."

"Doesn't it matter who _you_ are? How can you stand that? How can it be fine that you just... disappear?"

"All that matters is that you're with him, and you're together. For better or for worse."

Was this it? Was this my chance? "What if he's evil?" I breathed into the silence.

Bellatrix shrugged, twisting her veil this way and that. "When you love him, when you're devoted only to him, there is nothing else in this world. Nothing else comes close. Nothing else matters."

Silently, I help her arrange her hair and veil. Just a second before I had been so tempted to tell her about what I knew of her fiancé—of the darkness within him, what he did to Audrey. I wanted to pour out my fears and doubts, and convince her—beg her—not to go through with the wedding. But then Bellatrix turned her dark eyes to me. Despite the massive hangover she must have been suffering, she beamed. She looked... _happy_. Radiant.

My arguments died on my tongue. Who was I to steal this joy she had found? Was I selfish in my desire to expose Rodolphus? What good could be wrought from revealing the past? Nothing would change—not for the better, at least.

At last I convinced myself. I kissed Bellatrix and wished her happy. And at that moment, I knew myself to be a coward.

:::

The Lestrange-Black wedding kicked off the start of the summer social season, never mind that it took place on the first of April. The weather was warm for London in the spring, and the best and brightest of England's magical community graced my sister and her new husband with their presence. The event marked the end of the dismal cold, and everyone was ready to shed the heaviness and sobriety of winter and greet the new season.

Forced to endure what was proving to be a long, excruciating evening, I stood for most of the night awkwardly huddled between a marble pillar and a gaggle of twelve-year-old boys who were growing bolder in their attempts to sneak firewhiskey from the nearby bar. Smoke and drunken laughter filled the air; the crush of bodies swayed to the half-drowned out music coming from the live band at the far end of the room. The night was proving to be even more raucous and debauch than the previous night's festivities.

Mercifully, close to midnight, Rabastan found me. Navigating through the crowds, down a servants' corridor, he led us into a mostly-abandoned courtyard. The only other occupants were a preoccupied couple sitting in the shadows at one corner, and a man on his knees vomiting into the bushes at another. Ignoring everyone else, I closed my eyes and breathed in the cool, evening air.

Rabastan leaned against the entrance of the French doors, a grin on his face. "I'm glad I was able to pull you out of there. You looked like you were wilting."

"I felt like it. Was that not the most painful evening imaginable?"

"The worst," he agreed. "Rodolphus and your sister do have the most horrendous taste. In dress, in music, food—"

"More is more, as Bella always says."

"A saying she takes to heart, I see," answered Rabastan with a laugh. "Though I must say, the champagne was superb. Very well done of them."

"Yes, so well done that it's being gulped down by the litre, and the effects are very much apparent." I let my gaze wander over to the others who graced the courtyard. The couple was still in their own little world—one which I hoped would soon include a private room—and the man had finished retching, but was now groaning into the flagstone.

"If you had tasted the champagne, you would not be able to blame these poor souls. One cannot drink it moderately. Shall I fetch you a glass?"

"Ha! After you've already warned me of the effects?"

"It's your duty to try it, Miss Maid of Honor. You know your sister well enough to realize that she'll be unreasonably offended if you hadn't tasted it."

I made a face at him. "Damn it, you're right. I hate it when you do that. Fine, fetch me a glass."

Rabastan's footsteps had barely receded back into the manse before the man, who a moment ago was moaning pitifully on the ground, rocked back onto his heels and slowly pushed himself upright. I recognized him immediately as my new brother-in-law.

"Narcissa," he slurred, stepping toward me unsteadily.

"Rodolphus..." I started toward the doorway, but he darted in front of me with surprising speed—at least for a man who had just been depositing his guts into the bushes not five minutes past.

He braced himself between the door jam, effectively blocking the entrance. A furtive glance around the courtyard revealed that we were alone. The amorous couple had disappeared.

"You know, Narcissa, it was always just Rab and me growing up. You have no idea how much I have always wanted a sister."

I shuddered. The look he had given me was dark and decidedly _un_-brotherly. "Rodolphus, please," I said again, attempting to keep the panic out of my voice. "Let me pass."

"You haven't wished me happy yet, _sister_," he replied, ignoring my request. "Come. Give me a congratulatory kiss." Arms wide, he moved toward me then; the sharp, acrid scent of vomit and alcohol poured off of him like smoke.

Backing away, I attempted to dodge him, but my skirts became tangled around my legs. He grabbed my arms and drew me against his chest. A bolt of fear shot through me as his touch triggered painful memories of my recent nightmare.

"Rodolphus!" We both froze, our eyes drawn to Lucius who stood at the doorway, a glass of champagne in hand. Whatever he thought was occurring, his face showed no signs of it. "Your newly acquired wife is looking for you."

Rodolphus' face cleared. "Bellatrix?" He looked at me again, and released my arms quickly, as though I had burned him. Without another word he lumbered back into the house in search of his bride.

"Are you all right?" Lucius handed me the glass.

I took it and swallowed the bubbly liquid quickly, not tasting it. "How can you be friends with that horrible man?"

"He is not himself when he drinks," said Lucius.

"Perhaps he is not himself when he _isn't_," I spat, storming back inside. I almost made it back into the ballroom before Lucius' arms came around me, halting my progress. "Get your hands off of me! Did you save me from that monster just so you could accost me yourself?" The glass in my hand fell and shattered at our feet.

His hold didn't break, and he pulled me back into the shadows. "Calm down, damn you! I can't let you go until you desist with this foolishness."

I forced myself to calm down. Not because he had ordered me to—he hadn't—but because I felt slightly ridiculous being held like a child trying to cross in front of an oncoming train.

"There, _calm_. Will you let me go now?"

"You're not going to run off and tattle on Rodolphus, are you?"

"I should. I can see now it was a mistake not to tell her what kind of man he was before the wedding. He doesn't deserve any less than public humiliation and ostracism."

"You would do that to your own sister?" Lucius said, his voice reproving. "Whatever you wish on him will be visited on her, too, now. Are you that heartless, love?"

"Damn it, Lucius, I am so _furious!_ At _you_, for being a dictatorial bastard. At me for being a damned coward... but mostly at _him _and Caractacus Burke. May death take them both," I snarled, "and leave my sister a wealthy widow."

"Short of life in Azkaban, a worse sentence you could not inflict upon your sister. The only thing Bella wants in life is a man completely devoted to her. You cannot find anyone better than Lestrange for that."

As if on cue, the crowds parted, and we glimpsed the pair—Rodolphus and Bellatrix—locked in an embrace, swaying to the music. It gave credence to Lucius' words.

The amorous mood must have been infectious because I soon felt Lucius' lips on my temple. "I miss you, Cissa," he said. "I miss your scent... your saucy mouth. I'll admit that at times I even miss your company. Won't you forgive me?"

I moved away from him then, and leaned against the wall of the shadowed corner we occupied. With the cold marble at my back, for a moment, I regretted leaving his warmth. "You know what you've done, Lucius. How can you even ask that?"

He took my hand and held it against his mouth. "Can't you at least see they were all done for your own good, love? Everything I've done was to protect you."

I snatched my hand back. "I don't need your protection, _Malfoy_."

"Ah, sweet Cissa," he said, his eyes soft. "You don't know half of what this world holds, and I swear that I will try my damnedest to keep it that way."

"No! No more, Lucius! Every time you try to protect me, I end up worse than before."

He took my face in his hands, his voice and eyes grave. "There is a dark time ahead, Narcissa. You will be my wife, and I will shield you from it as best as I can, but you must trust me."

"That's the problem, isn't it? I don't trust you at all."

"Narcissa, there you are!" Rabastan appeared before us. "Sorry I was held up. Did you get to taste the champagne I sent you?"

"Yes, it was delicious, as you said," I lied, smoothly detaching myself from Lucius' grasp. "What kept you?"

"Ah, sorry about that," said Rabastan sheepishly. "My mother wanted me to meet a friend's niece. An heiress from France, or something. Good enough for a second son, in any case. Had to dance with the chit."

"Dance?" I said, deliberately misunderstanding him. "That sounds like an excellent idea!" I grabbed his hand and practically dragged him out to the dance floor, not even sparing Lucius a backward glance.

Rabastan understood the situation immediately, and once on the dance floor, he took the lead and wrapped his arms around me. "Poor Cissy, was it very bad being alone with Lucius?"

"He is everything I remembered him to be, only more-so tonight. The mood has become strange between us. A large part of me, the pragmatic part, says not to trust him—avoid him at all costs, even. Yet, I cannot control my body's reaction toward him. It's magnetic, this power he has over me."

"An enviable trait," he answered with a hint of bitterness. I could not find a reply, so we danced in silence for a bit; my head against Rabastan's chest. His heart beat steadily beneath my ear.

"Still," I continued after a moment, "it not as bad as being alone with your brother." I related to him what transpired after he left the courtyard, and he was appropriately shocked.

"Ah, forgive me, love," Rabastan whispered softly, drawing me closer still. "I returned as quickly as I could." His lips brushed my forehead; his lightly-stubbled cheek gently scored my own.

The Vow hummed—low, but insistent.

Immediately, I stiffened and stepped back from him. "You can't do that, Rab."

"What? _Comfort _you?"

My face flushed. "Not like that."

"Why the hell not?" he demanded, offended. "I've always been there for you—I've comforted you. Am I not allowed to touch you now?" We had stopped in the middle of the dance floor; Rabastan glared at me, his face a mask of barely-veiled anger. My eyes glanced around the room frantically. Soon the murmuring would begin.

I moved back into the circle of his arms, but kept an appropriate distance between us. "Let's just keep dancing—people are beginning to stare."

He was reluctant, more than a little put out, but at last, he drew his arms around me. We continued to sway together, though our movements were wooden and awkward. There was no way for me to apologize, to tell him that his embrace was being interpreted by the Vow as more than what it was. Or did the Vow sense a less innocent motive?

Months of living with the Unbreakable Vow made me believe that I had encountered every aspect of its hold, yet in the fear and frustration accompanying my vow of total obedience to Lucius, I failed to account for the second stipulation: the vow to remain pure and chaste, denying any man but my husband knowledge of my body.

Somewhere in the distance, a clock struck midnight. Rabastan jerked forward, gasping, and leaned heavily into me. He clutched his forearm, his face pale.

"Rab! What's wrong?" I held his arm, and he winced in pain.

"It's nothing," he said, voice terse. Straightening, he shook his head and dusted off his robes. "I just—I need to leave now."

Bellatrix's shrieking laugh filled the banquet hall, as she clambered on top of a table. "Thank you all for coming," she hiccupped. "But the party's over!" With a laugh she grabbed Rodolphus' hand, and they both apparated with a loud _'crack!'_

Rabastan's face was unreadable. "_Shit_, this is not how I wanted tonight to end," he said. "Narcissa, I—I'm sorry!" He gave me an apologetic shrug, and then he, too, was gone.

"Party's dead, you best get home," said Lucius' smooth voice in my ear.

I whirled around to face him, aware that several other guests decided that they would be making their escape as well.

"I am also being called away, but I assure you, our conversation is far from over."

Already exhausted by the day's events, I waved him away. "Be gone, Lucius. I am tired of this."

He grabbed my arm and whipped me around. "What is it you want, then? I'd fetch you the moon, if you asked for it."

An answer came to mind. "If you are earnest, there is only one thing I want most in the world. _I want revenge."_

As though that were some sort of romantic declaration—perhaps for him it was—Lucius swept me up into his arms and covered my mouth with his. "It's yours," he growled, pulling away from me. "I swear it."

:::

Mother entered my room later that night. She dismissed the house elf brushing my hair and took up the comb, positioning herself behind me. I watched her warily from my vanity. My mother hadn't brushed my hair since I was five. There was another reason she was here.

My suspicions were confirmed when she pulled the comb roughly through my hair. My head snapped back with the force of it. I managed to bite back a yelp; I couldn't give her that satisfaction. She continued in that manner for several more strokes.

"Is something the matter, Mother?" I was too tired to keep the irritation out of my voice.

"You and your sister may think I'm a foolish old biddy," said Mother, continuing her forceful ministrations. "And perhaps I may seem that way for my tastes. But at least I'm not a fool—something I cannot say about my daughters."

I whirled to face her, grabbing the brush from her hand. "_What_ are you going on about?"

"Care to explain to me why Lucius Malfoy's fiancée was being fondled on the dance floor by some other man tonight?"

"Don't know what you mean," I answered with a sniff, turning back to the mirror.

"Perhaps you don't understand the gravity of our situation, Narcissa," continued Mother. "Let me inform you at this moment that your position in this household is tenuous, at best. We have already been disgraced, and another mark against our names will destroy us. You, my girl, are flirting dangerously close to ruin. Rabastan may be a sweet boy, but he is an heir. He's not _Lucius Malfoy_."

"You have nothing to fear, Mother!" I spoke bitterly. "I am prevented from doing anything. You made sure of it."

Her face cleared slightly, reassured. "See, then, that you behave more appropriately from now on. Wagging tongues can still besmirch a good name. You need to be extra solicitous to Malfoy, Vow or no Vow. His good favor matters."

"More than my life?" I grumbled under my breath.

She heard it anyway. "_Yes_," Mother returned sharply. "It _does_."

:::

Fifteen minutes before midnight, four days later, the object of our conversation was announced in our parlour. My family was having a quiet evening at home, relishing the calm of our house after the bustle of Bellatrix's wedding. The last of the guests had departed only a few hours earlier, and we finally had the place to ourselves. Then Lucius Malfoy came strolling in.

"Mr. Black, Mrs. Black, I will be escorting your lovely daughter out for the evening." Not so much as a by-your-leave.

"Are you out of mind?" I said, standing. "It is nigh midnight as it is—!"

"Of course you may have her," interrupted Mother. "Keep her as long as you wish." Father bumbled out a few incoherent words, bowing and grinning stupidly as we left the house.

A house elf appeared with a dark, hooded cloak I didn't recognize; Lucius grinned as he slipped it on me, pulling the hood forward, effectively hiding my face from view. Outside, we boarded a finely equipped carriage, and Lucius, after sliding into the seat beside me, rapped on the roof the carriage with his cane. The carriage rolled into motion.

"So where are you taking me so secretively?" I asked at last.

"Your birthday is coming up in a few weeks," he answered, twining his fingers through mine. I was surprised that he even knew when my birthday was. "I thought you'd appreciate getting an early present from me."

A few minutes later, the carriage pulled up to a large townhouse—almost a mansion, really—in a respectable, if not fashionable, part of London. The grounds were tidy, well-manicured, but there was not a single light on in the building that betrayed its inhabitants.

"Where are we?"

"This, Cissy dear, is the home of one Caractacus Burke the Second."

"This? Impossible. The Burkes could never afford something this grand—they are barely scraping by as it is."

"Certainly _Audrey's_ family is poor... but Caractacus Burke is fairly wealthy." He stared at the darkened house, his gaze hardening. "Over the past few days I've discovered that Caractacus Burke has embezzled hundreds of thousands of galleons from his own family. For years he has been buying up half of Knockturn Alley with the stolen profits. Consequently, the family business is tanking while he accumulates his personal fortune."

"That's abominable..."

"He has been hiding behind the shop's supposed poverty. The debt he owed Lestrange was a personal one. A gambling debt. Instead of paying it out of his own pocket, he auctioned off his granddaughter's virtue."

More surprising than Caractacus Burke's perfidy was the vehemence in Lucius' voice. Burke's actions sickened him, but not because of the vile acts committed against Audrey, but because he could not comprehend the utter selfishness of a man like Burke. Lucius Malfoy may not have been a perfect man, but he understood and held sacred his responsibility as the head of his family and business.

"But why are we here?"

Lucius' smile bordered on malicious. "For your birthday present."

:::

Hand in hand we entered the darkened building, which—despite its apparent opulence—looked completely abandoned. Not even a house elf greeted our arrival. Lucius betrayed his familiarity with the house by expertly guiding us through the labyrinth-like first floor. Several minutes passed before we entered a room that sat at the heart of the manse.

A company of three men stood at the center of the room. Their illuminated wands, held aloft, lit the room enough to reveal a fourth man, a black cloth bag over his head, who was bound to a chair between them. I recognized Rabastan as one of the three men, though all three were hooded and masks hid their lower faces. He did not greet me, but nodded solemnly to Lucius.

Lucius left me in the shadows of the room, and strode to meet the men. "Gentlemen," he greeted them. He regarded the bound and blind man before him for a second before ripping the bag from the man's head, revealing the flushed face of Caractacus Burke.

"Malfoy!" Burke had no trouble identifying the only unmasked man in the room. "What is the meaning of this? How dare you and your—your gang of _hooligans!_—treat me in such a manner—!"

"You have been trialed by a jury of your peers, Burke. You have been found guilty of gross negligence and outright stupidity. Now it's time for sentencing."

"_What? Why, you f—!"_

"_Silencio!"_ Lucius' spell echoed through the stone room. The man's words caught in his throat, replaced instead by a piteous choking sound.

"You have disgraced your name and that of your family," continued Lucius, his voice hard. "You have condemned them to a life of poverty and shame while you squander what is rightfully owed them. You have bartered your own granddaughter's body against her will in exchange for your vowels. You have neglected and abused your duties as the head of your family. You are a sickening, detestable, waste of human flesh. You ought to hang for your crimes."

Burke began weeping, but whether from genuine remorse or fear, I couldn't tell.

Revulsion suffused Lucius' face. "Because we are merciful, we will give you a choice. You will sell off all your properties, liquidate all your assets. You will meet with my solicitor and draft a new will leaving everything to your granddaughter, Audrey Burke. Then you will fake your own death. A ticket to the Continent has been purchased for you. You will live in comfortable exile funded by Malfoy Group International."

Burke choked on his words for a few moments before Lucius relieved him of the Silencing Charm. "H—How much?" asked the older man, his eyes wide.

"I am not unkind. Fifty galleons a month should be more than sufficient for one man." Burke's face blanched. Obviously, it was much less money than what his current lifestyle was accustomed. "Failure to comply is your second option. Should that be the case, the whole of England will be witness to your very public, very gruesome death... with the same results."

"Damn you, Malfoy! How dare—!"

This time Lucius' own hands at Burke's throat stopped the man's speech. "How _dare_ I, sir? How dare _you_ betray your family's trust in such a manner! _You_ were supposed to provide for them. To protect them—to protect Audrey! Instead, you've done all _this!"_ He gestured to the house around him, as if that would suffice in explanation. And perhaps it did. Burke said not another word.

Lucius released the man, who fell back in his chair, defeated. "Take him to my solicitor," Lucius said to Rabastan. "He's expecting you, Burke. You will be in France by dawn."

One of the men charmed a fire to life in the empty hearth, and all four stepped through to carry out Lucius' decree. When they had gone I left the shadows and stepped toward Lucius, who stood staring at the fire. I expected him to look triumphant, but he didn't. He looked... weary.

"I ended a man's life today," said Lucius, finally. "Though he didn't die, I'm sure in his opinion, he might as well have. It's not something I regret doing—it had to be done. But it is not something that should be done lightly."

I went to him then, stepping in front of him, and wrapped my arms around his waist. He allowed me to rest my head against his chest. "Thank you for doing it. For Audrey's sake."

His arms went around me, and I felt his breath stir my hair. "Do not mistake me, Narcissa. None of this was for Audrey. It was all for you."

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for your support and reviews (especially to those who PM'd me and helped motivate me to finish up this latest chapter)! You honor me with your words.


	15. Chapter 15

"_The rate of death after reneging on the stipulations of an Unbreakable Vow varies from person to person. A youth in the peak of health may fall down dead in the instant he has violated it; a great-grandmother on her deathbed may live a month or more after she has broken hers. The reason for that is unknown... [All] we know is that the effects leading up to the violation (and experienced immediately afterwards but with increasing ferocity) are the same in all subjects: dizziness and nausea, severe migraines, and fever. It is then, mayhap, a mercy for the young man to die so quickly after his vow breaking."_

—_Dr. Mordan Sollis, Modern Magikal Medicine, 1885_

:::

_Narcissa crossed her arms and glared at the older boy standing in her family sitting room. The adults were sequestered in her father's study, deep in marriage negotiations. "You're going to marry my sister Andy, aren't you, boy?"_

_"My father says I must. And you may call me Master Lucius," he said with a sniff._

_"Mather Loose—?" She stumbled over the name, her missing front two teeth making a whistling sound._

_Lucius laughed._

_"Don't laugh at me! I can't help that my teeth are missing. You mustn't poke fun of people who can't control it."_

_"If you're funny, I'll laugh at you. You can't control it."_

_"You're being terribly rude to me. I think you'll make a terrible husband for Andy."_

_"Maybe she deserves a terrible husband. How do you know your sister won't be a terrible wife?"_

_"Because Andy is perfect! She's clever and beautiful, and a lot more nicer than Bella! Bella plays mean jokes on me and calls me a 'Sissy Cissy.'"_

_"Yes, I am familiar with Bellatrix. She doesn't seem like a very nice person. I doubt she'll make a very good wife. She'll probably leave her husband and fall in love with another man."_

_"What a horrid thing to say! At least Bellatrix is beautiful. She has tonnes of admirers, and one day she'll marry a rich and powerful wizard. But she says that I'm too pale and ugly and flat-chested to even be noticed. No one will ever want to marry me."_

_Lucius approached the girl and examined her closely. Her pale blonde hair was brushed back in a tidy pearl clip, her small mouth puckered in a natural pout. But it was her eyes—a shade of blue just a tinge lighter than the winter sky—that captivated him. He lifted her chin up to look at him._

_"Bellatrix, I'm sure, is wildly envious of your blonde hair and blue eyes, which are more beautiful than her own. I promise you that one day, a prince will come and fall madly in love with you and marry you."_

_Her mouth trembled. "You promise?"_

:::

The death—or apparent death—of one Caractacus Burke was barely noticed by the Wizarding World, as the man was neither well known nor well loved. The day after Burke was shipped to the Continent and his family notified that his ship went down off the coast of Calais, a short obituary appeared in the Daily Prophet, buried at the bottom of the eighteenth page: "Caractacus Burke II, owner of Borgin & Burkes, was lost at sea in the early morning hours of April 5th. Burke is survived by his son, daughter-in-law, and three grandchildren."

I owled flowers and a letter of condolence to Audrey. They were not returned to me.

:::

"Mr. Malfoy, earlier this month the board of Malfoy Group International, also known as MAGI, voted you in as the youngest company president in the modern era. What do you have to say to that?"

"It was the right call," Lucius stated, watching the earnest young journalist scratch away busily in her notebook. "I may be young, but MAGI has always been run by a Malfoy. The shareholders expect and desire the Malfoy heir's steady hand on the reins."

"What do you say to those who are fearful of your youth and inexperience?" the journalist asked, peering over her half-moon glasses.

"I'll admit to my being young—I just turned eighteen this past January. But it is faulty to say that I am inexperienced. On the contrary my entire life has been dedicated to assuming my place at MAGI. I have been in training since my birth, as all Malfoy heirs have done in the past—as I will one day train my own son. Ergo, one could say I have eighteen years of experience."

"Powerful words from the world's most powerful teenager," the journalist said, almost in awe. She quickly wrote down her own quote. I could barely stifle back a laugh, and Lucius' lips, too, twitched in a smile. "Last thing," she continued, "for the uninitiated, could you explain what MAGI actually does?"

"Simply put, we safeguard your money, and later we return it with interest."

The woman frowned at the unglamorous answer. "So you're like Gringotts?"

"Ms. Skeeter, Gringotts is a hole in the ground," said Lucius with a sneer. "What we do is we take your money, and instead of leaving it in a bank vault to rot with the goblins, we make it work for you. For instance, say you have one galleon. If you give me your galleon and a little bit of time, your one galleon will become thirty. Now imagine the same principle but in the millions. That, Ms. Skeeter, is what MAGI does."

The journalist stared at Lucius, her mouth open in undisguised lust. "That sounds... incredible," said the woman breathlessly. She leaned in close, her hand out, as if to touch him.

My fingers twitched to grab my wand and hex that look off her face.

"Steady now," Lucius said quietly. His eyes were still on the Skeeter woman, but his hand gripped my arm firmly where my wand had been half-drawn. The knowledge made me blush, and I quickly secreted the wand away.

All the journalist noticed, when my movement caught her eye, was Lucius' hand on mine. She was not amused by the interruption to her reverie. "And who exactly is this girl to you?" she asked, her lips a thin line. "A classmate of yours?"

Lucius twined his fingers with mine. "My fiancée, actually."

"A fiancée already? You both are rather young for marriage, don't you think?"

"My father was a strong believer in marriage as a stabilizing agent for a man, and I tend to agree. There can be nothing but good things that can come out of a marriage between equals. Now, unfortunately, we must end the interview. We do have a train to Hogwarts to catch."

"Yes, of course. Any last words to our readers?"

His smile was dazzling as he answered, every inch the CEO. "Malfoy Group International is in young, but capable hands. I am my father's son, taught by the best to ensure the best. Stockholders have nothing to fear."

The interview with the Skeeter woman was merely the sixth such interview Lucius and I had sat through in the past day and a half. On the Friday before the end of Easter break, he had been officially installed as the president of MAGI. It was a powerful position in the Wizarding World, especially for one so young. The power he now wielded was not only economic, but political as well, since MAGI serviced and was contracted by several departments in the Ministry of Magic.

Lucius, born and bred into this life of business, took to the new position easily. He had been running the company since his father's death on New Year's Eve. I, on the other hand, was drained after the endless rotations of meetings and interviews. As his fiancée, Lucius insisted that I accompany him, and my parents agreed wholeheartedly. We were to present the world with a united front, a perfect couple with the perfect life, and (it naturally followed) the perfect business. All that was required of me was to sit quietly and appear supportive. Fortunately, most reporters ignored my presence beside Lucius during his myriad of nearly identical interviews. Those who did not—invariably the female reporters—would receive the same reply.

The only part of the whole process where I had to take an active role was during the photography sessions. Everyone wanted a picture of the handsome young president and his soon-to-be wife. It wouldn't take long for our images to be found on every newsstand from London to Hogsmeade. It didn't stop at just the interviews either. Journalists and paparazzi would blatantly take my photo while I was walking down the street. I became a public figure overnight—an unnerving and unexpected consequence of publicizing my engagement to Lucius Malfoy.

"The train left hours ago. Why did you lie to that journalist?" I asked as soon as we were out the doors.

"I don't feel obligated to be completely sincere about my daily life to a virtual stranger. Plus, you looked as though you were an inch from cursing her to oblivion. I thought it opportune to leave before it was discovered how insanely jealous my fiancée can become."

"Not insanely jealous! I just thought it was incredibly rude and unprofessional of her to act that way toward you, especially considering that I was sitting right next to you."

"Call it what you will, darling. I found it extremely gratifying." He raised my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss there. "We still have a few hours before we Floo back to Hogsmeade. What shall we do?"

"This is an interesting feeling. I don't think we've ever been out with nothing to do before."

Lucius twined his fingers with mine. "Very true. We should do something memorable, then."

"Is this a date?" A grin blossomed on my face.

He barked out a laugh. "Yes, I suppose it is. We've been engaged for eight months. High time we behaved like it."

:::

The sun was beginning to set, but we dragged out the last few moments we could before heading to the Floo station. I eyed Lucius over my ice cream at Fortescues's and asked what I had been wondering all day. "Why are you being so sweet to me all of a sudden? In fact, for the past couple of weeks you've been... nice."

"Nice? I've ruined a man's life for you—albeit it was richly deserved—and all you can say is that I'm 'nice'?"

"I can't exactly call revenge sweet and thoughtful."

"Though it was."

I had to stifle a giggle. "Perhaps. It was what I wanted."

"I know."

"And this entire day you've shown me such a wonderful time, because it's what I wanted."

"Yes."

"You are being so..._nice_."

He arched an elegant eyebrow. "You are sorely in need of a better adjective."

"Tell me why."

"Because you use the word too often."

"No, why are you doing all this for me?"

Lucius' eyes were serious. "Because you're mine to provide for and to protect. Your entire being, your health and happiness, are my responsibilities. And I don't take my responsibilities lightly."

I looked down at my now melted ice cream. "But you didn't before?"

"No, I was merely using another method," he said as a matter-of-fact. "Ultimately, I found that it didn't work as effectively as desired. Therefore, revaluation and refinement of my strategy was necessary.

"Even in love, you are extremely calculating."

With a cocked eyebrow, he replied, "Love requires calculation. It is a choice, Narcissa, not an emotion. You choose it—you are not mercy to its whims. Whoever tells you different is a liar—to you and himself."

"Humph, distinctly less fuzzy feelings now."

He smiled at my wry tone. "You should find it flattering. Of all the girls I know, I've chosen to love _you_."

"You chose, or your father?"

"My father chose Andromeda," he said, surprising me with his unhesitating use of her name. "After that I could have had anyone. You were my choice."

"How come?"

"Because a long time ago, I promised that you would marry a prince. Do you remember that?"

"At...your first betrothal ceremony. I barely remember that day. How in Merlin's name do you?"

"I remember because I promised you that one day you would grow up to be a beautiful young woman and marry a prince. And I always keep my promises."

:::

We arrived back at the castle well after the train had pulled into Hogsmeade station. Most of the school sat in the Great Hall for dinner, but I indulged in a quiet bath in the prefects' bathroom. The typical Slytherin celebration was just kicking into full swing by the time I made it back to the common room.

To my surprise a roar of greeting met my entrance, and I was swept up in the crowd that deposited me neatly on the settee next to an amused-looking Lucius. A cold shot glass was placed in my hand, and I downed it neatly without bothering to check the contents.

"I don't know what sort of welcome I expected, but this certainly wasn't it."

Lucius, uncharacteristically, slid an arm around me. "You're firmly back in my good graces, and the newspaper interviews have confirmed it." He handed me an advance copy of Monday's paper. A picture of Lucius and I staring (lovingly) at each other graced the cover. The headline, "Young Mogul in Love," was boldly printed above our grinning likenesses.

The article read, _"The young powerful Lucius Malfoy attributes his business acumen to the love of his life, Narcissa Black, daughter of the prestigious House of Black. The young people could hardly keep their hands off each other during the interview. 'She's my fiancée,' explains Malfoy to this reporter, even as he gently caresses her arm. The young lady, unavailable for comment, appeared extremely vexed that her soon-to-be husband was merely _speaking _with to another woman. These two lovebirds are scheduling their nuptials after Miss Black's graduation from Hogwarts..."_

I scanned the rest of the article. "It barely mentions anything about your promotion or MAGI."

Lucius shrugged. "Skeeter is not the most reliable of journalists, but women love to read her. And any publicity for MAGI is good publicity."

"She makes me sound like a harridan!" I read aloud a section that caught my eye: "'Miss Black's sharp outfit and pinched face clearly marks her as a spoiled society princess.'"

"At least she complimented your fashion sense." Lucius sipped his own glass. "Just imagine how proud your mother will be."

:::

True to Lucius' prediction, Mother sent around a note first thing in the morning. She commended me on how well I heeded her words about placating the Malfoy Heir. _On this day,_ she wrote, _you have not shamed the venerable name of Black_. The letter, quickly rent and ignited, was the crowning glory of my return to the proverbial fold.

Delivered along with the letter was a coin purse heavy with gold galleons, which diverted Lucius to no end. "So your parents are paying you to keep me happy?" he asked with a laugh. Several heads turned at the sound, amazed that someone could elicit such a response from him.

I rolled my eyes, amused despite myself. "Apparently so, but I fear that they might hold the standard to proving my efforts via internationally read papers. I'll never get paid again, alas."

He chuckled as he rose to his feet, and I turned up my face for his kiss. How easily we fell back into the habits of our comfortable, if rocky, relationship. Everything that had been denied me during my month of estrangement—my social status, my companions, my peace of mind—returned to me tenfold.

Lucius, naturally, had set one stipulation upon the renewal of our relationship: Jude Ellison must be given up. Arguing was futile; Lucius Malfoy does not share. In my youth and selfishness, I felt it a fair trade. The only point of contention was the _how_. As these things usually go, however, the matter was taken out of my hands.

:::

"_Narcissa!"_ Jude's voice echoed down the stone hallway, drowned out by a dozen Slytherin hissing. To them, Jude was an interloper. Unwelcome. "Narcissa!" he called over the wall of students blocking his path.

They stared daggers at him and sent wary, accusing glances at me. A few scuffled away to inform necessary parties; namely, Lucius.

"Jude, how was your holiday?" I maintained a safe, appropriate distance.

"It was fine," he replied, ever polite. "What the hell is going on?"

"Nothing. We're just on our way to class."

"What, all thirty of you?"

"Slytherin enjoy traveling in groups," I said with a shrug. Hoping against hope, I willed that he would leave on his own accord before someone made him.

"Listen"—he edged closer to me—"I was wondering whether later, you'd be able to—"

"No, I'm not," I interrupted. "I'm not able to do anything. I don't know if you're aware, but I'm actually—"

"Engaged to Lucius Malfoy. Right, I know."

Aware of how close he had become, I backed away and said loudly, "So you understand that things have _changed_."

"I don't see why—?"

"Don't tell me you need to harass uninterested girls for dates, Ellison," said a hard voice from beyond the crowd. The students parted, and as feared, Lucius had arrived with his entourage. "With a pretty face like yours, I'm sure you'll do just fine."

They stared each other down with narrowed eyes, sizing the other up. Was this the first time the two actually had words? Most likely.

"This really isn't your concern, Malfoy," said Jude at last.

"Considering that it is my fiancée you are attempting to solicit, I feel that it is very much my concern."

In a final act of friendship, I stepped between the two. "Ellison, just go," I said, pleading with my eyes for him to leave. "It's _finished_."

Lucius, at my side, put his arm around me and faced Jude. "No," he said, "it never began."

:::

Hogwarts was not a large school; there were perhaps less than a thousand students during the time I was there. It was inevitable, then, that I would see Jude again, despite Lucius' wishes to the contrary.

Especially when Jude was hell-bent on seeing me.

The next time I saw him, he sported a fresh black eye, but it hardly spoiled his good looks. It lent him a devil-may-care aura that was strangely appealing. Rumor had it that Jude had received the bruise from a bludger he failed to account for during Hufflepuff's quidditch practice.

I knew differently.

"You shouldn't be seen talking with me," I warned him when he approached me. It was almost curfew and the library was nearly deserted. No one was in sight of where I sat deep in the ancient stacks.

"Our first talk was cut short. There are still some things I needed to get straightened out."

Letting out a sigh, I began to gather my things. "There's nothing to get straightened out, Jude. Strange as it might seem, I actually agree with Lucius. You need to stay away from me. If only for your own sake."

He scoffed. "Lucius Malfoy is not my master."

"Yes, but he is mine!" I snapped. My voice echoed against the stone of the library. Softer, I continued, "You may think you're brave by defying Lucius, but you're punishing me, too, by forcing me to watch you get hurt because of our friendship."

Jude put his hands on my shoulders, stilling my movements. "You are not their slave, Narcissa."

"All I know is that this past week has been a _relief _compared to the hell I lived through last month. I feel safe, respected, _wanted _by my peers. If the price for all that is your friendship..." I looked away from Jude's searching eyes. "I truly am sorry, but to me, that's worth it."

He looked stunned. Several moments passed before he spoke again. "You cannot possibly be that selfish."

I gave him a wry smile worthy of a future Malfoy. "It's not so unbelievable, is it? I'm a Slytherin after all."

:::

Jude had left as quickly and quietly as he had come, but still the hairs on the back of my neck bristled with the unnerving sensation of pair of eyes on me. I spun around in time to see something small and dark dart out of my line of vision. It wasn't difficult to guess the direction it fled, and following its trajectory, came upon a first-year Gryffindor. Her nose was buried deep in a massive book.

"Where'd you run off to, Severus?" she said, not bothering to look up from the tome. "You promised you'd help me with my Potions essay."

"I'm not Severus, whoever that is," I answered.

My voice startled the girl who jumped up and knocked her ink over. "For Merlin's sake!" she cursed. "That's half my essay!"

Exasperated at her ignorance, I vanished the ink. "Essay saved. Of course, that doesn't work on magically indelible ink."

The girl beamed at me. With her light green eyes, and soft, wavy red hair, I could tell she would become quite beautiful when she was older.

"Are you from Severus' house?" she asked, eyeing my robes.

"I don't know who that is."

"That's him!" the girl cried, pointing into the shadows behind me.

Half turning, I watched a familiar looking boy reluctantly emerge from the dark stacks. He scowled, either at the girl or at me, I couldn't tell. I grinned at his glare. The girl, however, was having none of it.

"Don't look at me like that, Mr. Grouch. I don't know why you ran off and then were lurking in the shadows like that when you promised you would help me."

The boy hung his head, allowing his lanky black hair to fall over his face. Suddenly I recognized him: it was Lucius' first-year pet... Or spy, more like. "What did you see, boy?"

"His name is Severus!" squeaked the girl.

"Lily!" Severus snapped. "You do not correct the Queen of Slytherin. She doesn't have to know my name."

The girl's eyes grew wide. "You're Narcissa Black? Lucius Malfoy's fiancée?"

"Girl," I said coldly, "this is a Slytherin matter. You may leave."

"But I—!"

"Just go, Lily!" Severus barked.

The girl flushed—in anger, or embarrassment, or both—and stormed off without packing her things. Severus, unable to call her back, stared daggers at me.

I arched an eyebrow at him. "You understand that when you wish to elude someone, you ought _not _to lead them to your actual destination, right?"

He, unable to say what he wanted—I was the Queen of Slytherin, after all—remained stoically silent.

"Now listen, Severus. You saw me doing something I shouldn't have done, unwilling as it was, and I saw you doing something you should not be doing. Oh, yes, I know you're friends with a Gryffindor mudblood. That's tantamount to blood treason, it is. Any Slytherin can tell you that. If that gets out, your life could so easily become a living hell. I know because it's happened to me." I leaned in closer. "So let's make a deal, Severus. You keep your observations to yourself and so will I."

"Yes ma'am," he said. His voice was barely audible.

"There's a good boy. No wonder you're such a favorite, even if you're a half blood yourself."

That remark hit a nerve, apparently, for he drew his wand to hurl a curse at me. Faster than his eyes could follow, I countered his clumsy spell with one of my own. His hex bounced harmlessly away with a soundless flick of my wrist. Another twist of my wand disarmed him completely.

He stared at me with wide eyes, breathing heavy, fearful.

"I understand that you're a first-year—hot headed and impatient to prove yourself—but that is the last time you raise your wand against me in anger."

With my permission, he retrieved his fallen wand while keeping a wary watch on me. Wand firmly back in his possession, he kept his arm slack at his side. A quick study.

Despite what he might have felt for me at that moment, I was growing to like the sullen little boy who held himself upright and proud even as I tutored him in what it means to be Slytherin.

"Now, let's get this right. Raise your wand in the guard position." I demonstrated the dueling position, and he mirrored my movements. "This is the best starting move for all formal duels. You may, once in awhile, encounter an opponent who will attempt something more elaborate. He is a fool. The only position better than this one when facing a foe is behind cover."

We practiced long into the night, until we both began pausing to yawn deeply, and the false dawn lightened the windows. My bones and head ached with work and concentration I had forgotten I was capable of achieving. It was a good ache.

"You've a great capacity for dueling," I told Severus as he packed his things. "However, your opponent will always know how to counter you if you're shouting your spells at them."

"We haven't studied silent spells, yet, ma'am."

"Aye, so you'll have an advantage over your classmates when you do." I took a quill from the redhead's belongings. "Here, levitate this without speaking."

Severus' forehead wrinkled in concentration. Tiny beads of perspiration formed on his long, hawkish nose, which he brushed away impatiently. The quill shook—barely perceptible—but no more.

"This is hopeless!" he gasped, throwing himself into a chair.

"If you believe that, there's no point trying to teach you anything." Wordlessly, I charmed the quill to fly through the air and tuck itself neatly in his book bag's front pocket.

"_Were_ you trying to teach me?" He sounded half nervous, half hopeful.

I considered the question. What had started as a little bit of teasing ended up being something more. "Severus, I do find myself liking you, oddly enough. You will never truly be one of us—you aren't pureblood, after all—but I sense great promise in you. If, and only if, you can levitate that quill for me, we can begin lessons in earnest."

:::

I saw the boy Severus a few hours later that morning at breakfast, which for me consisted of dry toast and a pepper-up potion. He was approaching the Gryffindor table where the little redheaded girl sat with several first-years.

"Lily-?"

"What do you want, Snivellus?" sneered a bespectacled first-year who I recognized as the Potter heir.

Severus blushed to the roots of his hair at the insult, especially as it drew the attention of the girl. He thrust the bag in her direction. She sniffed and turned away from the scene. It was abundantly clear to all who watched (which was a large portion of the Great Hall, as Potter basically yelled his remark) that Severus was not in the girl's good graces.

Cousin Sirius joined in. "Guess she doesn't want to speak with smelly Slytherins, Snivellus. Go slither back to wherever you came from." He pushed Severus, who tripped over the Potter boy's outstretched leg, sending Severus crashing to the ground.

My wand was drawn, and I was halfway to the table before another thought passed through my head. Lucius caught my eye and shook his head. _Bad idea,_ he seemed to say. Ignoring him, I continued to the table and planted myself firmly behind Severus, who had managed to climb to his feet despite the jeers and laughter coming from the Gryffindors. Crabbe and Goyle, appointed by Lucius to be my shadows, flanked me, and we made an impressive trio. When they saw us, the first-years paled at the sight.

"You would do well to leave Severus alone," I said softly. "Before someone gets hurt. I understand first-years are prone to accidents."

Muttering their acknowledgement of my implied threat, the gaggle quickly packed their book bags and left for their morning classes. The redheaded girl was left behind, stuffing her belongings into her bag that had been upended during the squabble. "_Friends_ with Severus, are you?" I pitched my voice low enough so only she could hear me. "I'm curious to see how you treat your enemies." The girl had the decency to look ashamed as she left.

Severus stood, silent, hands fisted at his sides. He didn't look me in the eye, but turned sharply on his heel and marched out of the Great Hall, leaving me confused. Hadn't I defended him when no one, not even his friends, would?

"I didn't realize you've adopted Young Snape," said Lucius once I returned to my place at the table. At my questioning look, he added, "I assumed you had, after you mothered him in front of the entire school."

"Not mothered—_defended!_"

"What you've done is set a dangerous precedent. You cannot always fight his battles for him."

"I was trying to help him!"

"You haven't done him any favors with that ridiculous display. In fact, he resents your interference."

I threw up my hands up in frustration. "That's it, I give up! I don't understand you boys at all."

Lucius let out a dry chuckle and returned to his morning paper. "That much is clear."

:::

"Miss Black?" A small Hufflepuff girl first year cleared her throat and waited patiently for me to acknowledge her.

"Merlin, I am so sick of first-years," I said to Rabastan, who was seated across from me at my usual study table at the library. He grinned at my remark but didn't look up from his essay (fifteen inches on the practical application of arithmancy in the average Wizarding household). One of the better benefits of my redemption in the eyes of the Slytherin house was the easy camaraderie I shared with Rabastan again. Of course, 'easy' was a relative term, based on the tacit agreement that we never spoke of or referred to the events that transpired during the Easter holiday.

"Yes?" I finally said. The girl pushed a note into my hand and darted away. The note read, _Come immediately to my office—Professor Slughorn_. I showed the note to Rabastan, who made a face of displeasure.

"We just had Potions today—he should have talked to you then. What have you done this time? Did you make him cry when I wasn't watching?"

"What _haven't_ I done today?" I replied with a sigh. "I'll be back, so don't leave as soon as I'm out of sight. I mean to copy most of your essay."

Leaving my things with Rabastan, I made my way down the familiar passage to Professor Slughorn's empty classroom and into his office. After knocking, I pushed open the door and found that it, too, was empty.

"He's not here."

I whipped around and found Jude leaning casually on a desk. "That's strange, he called me to his office," I said, brandishing the note.

"That's one of mine, actually. Saved it from earlier this year. Useful how he doesn't put your name on it. Made it much easier to lure you here."

"Hell. I feel a headache coming on. What is it you want?"

He straightened and approached me. "Just to talk...for now. You know, you owe me, Narcissa. I put up with a lot to be with you."

"I didn't ask you to do that." Jude was making me nervous. The light in his eye was something I hadn't seen before.

"Not with so many words, but you liked the attention." He stood uncomfortably close now, and I took a step back. Something was wrong. "You begged me with your eyes and your pouty lips to rescue you. You got wet thinking that someone got hurt because of you."

"You're disgusting." I tried to push past him to the door, but he grabbed my shoulders and threw me into a table. My stomach collided with the edge, knocking the wind out of me. I fell to the stone floor._ "What the fuck, Jude?_" I gasped. _Merlin,_ I thought frantically, _he's deranged! _I struggled to get back on my feet, using the table for balance, but he strode over and dealt me a vicious backhand. I fell to my hands and knees. Blood dripped from my lip to the gray stone beneath me.

"I'm not done with you yet, you bitch!" he screamed. He clutched a fistful of my hair forcefully and shook. "Oh, I am_ far _from done with you!"

Desperately, wrenching away from him, I groped for my wand, but Jude was larger, stronger, and the better dueler. He knocked me unconscious even before I realized he had drawn his wand.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** The following chapter is rated M for graphic violence and language. **Trigger Warning** for sexual violence.

* * *

_"He will by no means clear the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children to the third and the fourth generations.'" - Numbers 14:18b_

:::

A jolt, a gasp—I gained consciousness suddenly, pulled out of peaceful, numbing blackness to a small, unfamiliar room. Restraints at my wrists secured me to a bare, filthy bed. Based on the amount—or rather the lack—of light coming in from the high window, it had been hours since I was accosted in the dungeons. Surely someone—Rabastan, perhaps—was searching for me.

Using what little light I had left in the day, I scanned my surroundings. My mind raced for some method of escape. The room that was my prison held little more than the bed I was tied to. Nothing to reveal my location. I could have been in any number of rooms in Northern England. Or beyond, for that matter.

I fought against my rising panic—it wouldn't help me now. Forcing myself to focus, I weighed the options before me: I could yell for help (as I was not gagged), or I could attempt to free myself from my bonds. After a brief moment of contemplation, I chose the latter, as there was no indication to what manner of "help" I might draw with my screams if even help was near. Better the devil I knew.

Pulling taut the ropes, I tested their strength and noticed that my left hand was tied a tad bit looser than my right. Concentrating my effort on that left hand, I began twisting and pulling, hoping against hope that I could somehow slip the cord over my wrist. As I worked, a strange feeling of pride filled me. I would _not_ be a kidnap victim whose rash and frantic actions caused their limbs to swell and their bonds to tighten, thus reducing their chances of escape. Never would I be that weak-willed.

Soon, but not soon enough for my liking, my left hand slipped free, rubbed raw and red from the rope. My hand flew to the secret pocket of my robe which concealed my wand... Gone! The pocket was empty!

"Looking for this?" Jude stood at the darkened doorway, my wand in one hand, a lit candle in the other. He entered the room and placed both items on the left bedside table, just out of reach from my outstretched fingers, as a taunt. The taunt went unnoticed however, since the light from the candle revealed something immeasurably more disturbing. The walls of the little room were papered with photographs, scraps, and newspaper clippings. All of Lucius: Lucius as a young boy on Abraxas Malfoy's knee; Lucius playing Quidditch; Lucius on our recent Daily Prophet interview, my own face viciously scratched out.

"What is this?" I croaked; I had not spoken for several hours and my throat was parched. "Some sort of shrine?"

His eyes followed my gaze around the room and stared lovingly at the countless images staring back haughtily. "Of a sort," replied Jude pensively. He sat at the foot of the bed, a cold hand on my knee. I suppressed a shudder at his touch. "I have worked a long time for this, as you see. And I'm about to reap the rewards of my patience." His eyes glinted dangerously; his once-handsome face a distorted mask. "I thought you would be unconscious, but I'm glad you're not. It's better if you're awake for this next part."

Suddenly angry, I lunged for him, but my bound right wrist restricted my movement. My legs, however, were free; so I drew my knees back to kick at him. Jude moved away, laughing at my attempts.

"Fuck you!" I screamed. "What the hell do you want from me? Money? Do you want to see me beg? Or is this just payback for what you went through because of me?"

"Merlin! You are aptly named, aren't you, Narcissa? You're beautiful and rich, so naturally everything _must_ revolve around you."

"That's not true."

"Rich and beautiful, let's not add liar to the list."

"If this has nothing to do with me, then why am I here?"

Jude thrust his arms out, as if showcasing the walls surrounding us. "What do you think this is about, Narcissa? What has it always been about?" He tore a photograph from the wall and crushed it in his fist. _"Lucius Malfoy."_

"Nothing that he has done to you warrants what you've done to me! _You're insane!"_

Jude laughed. "Do you think I care about the petty little squabble at school? This goes much beyond that. Let me tell you a story: Seven years ago there was a happy family. The father was a successful business man, who loved his wife and children and devoted his entire life to them and their livelihood."

Engrossed in his story, I tried to work at the remaining binding without him noticing. It was no use—the cord remained tight, and my wrist began to swell. Blood dripped down to my elbow.

"Then one day," Jude continued, not even looking at me, "the man partnered with Malfoy Group International for a risky off-shore deal. The consequences of the deal falling through would have been enormous, but the rewards were greater still, and the father felt that with MAGI backing the deal, he couldn't lose. What do you think happened, Narcissa?" He turned back to face me, his eyes wild. I dropped my free hand out of his sight.

"I—I don't know."

"Clever snakes, they pulled out of the deal at the last moment and dumped the blame square in my father's lap! His firm couldn't handle the broken deal. He lost everything; he and his family were completely destitute. Two days later he threw himself off of the roof of Gringotts. Later that same week, MAGI bought out his firm and renegotiated the deal based on Father's terms, tripling their investments. They had pulled out because they did not want to share the profits!"

"I'm sorry about your father, Jude," I said, my voice shaking. "But that has _nothing_ to do with us. Lucius was your age when that terrible thing happened."

"That does not absolve him!" he raged. "The wealth of the Malfoys has been built on the blood of innocent men like my father. No longer can he live with impunity. Seven years ago he took from me someone I loved, and now I can return the favor."

Suddenly he leapt on the bed with surprising speed and he was on top of me, one hand pinning down my free arm, the other clutching my face, forcing me to look at him. "You are a means to an end, _darling_. I want Lucius Malfoy's heart on a plate, and you're the closest thing he's got to one."

I tried to shake my head. "You're wrong—the entire betrothal is an act! He cares nothing for me!"

"That's where _you're_ wrong. I've watched him closely for many years, and he cares a great deal about you. At worst he cares what people think of you, and that is just as good for my purposes. Do you think he'll want you after I'm through with you? Will anyone?"

I struggled under his weight. "Jude! Please, don't do this! Hurting me won't bring your father back!"

"Of course it won't, but it will make me feel a whole lot better."

He straddled my legs, rendering them useless. With his right hand holding down my left, his free hand moved down the length of my body and began to strip me of my clothing. One-handed, his movements were rough and clumsy. Buttons flew as he ripped open my shirt, baring me to the waist.

"I might not have been completely honest with you, Narcissa," he said, breathless from the exertion. He looked down at my chest. "This hasn't been completely about Malfoy. I must admit, if he had been betrothed to any other girl, I would not be relishing this so much." Bending over me, he ran his tongue up from my navel, between my breasts to my chin. My stomach heaved in revulsion and joined another, more ominous feeling.

The Vow hummed.

"Merlin, no..." A dreaded realization swept over me. The Vow stipulated that I was to allow no man other than Lucius knowledge of my body. "Jude, stop!" With renewed energy, I began fighting back, not only for my virtue, but my life. I squirmed beneath his body, trying to find some purchase with my feet to buck him off the bed. _"Get the fuck off me!"_

At last I managed to free my legs out from under him, and I brought them back and drove both feet into his groin. With a groan he rolled to the floor. Taking advantage of his momentary indisposition, I swung my legs around to the night stand and used my bare feet to grasp my wand, and then transfer it into my free hand.

_"Evansesco!"_ My bindings vanished, but at the same moment, Jude's fist connected with my jaw. My head slammed back against the headboard, and I was stunned and disoriented by the impact. He tore my wand from my limp grip and threw it into a corner.

"You're going to pay for that, you bitch!" he snarled. He gathered both of my wrists in one large hand held high over my head—with the other, he tore at my remaining clothes. "I'm going to take you like a whore, and Malfoy won't have anything to do with you."

The Vow beat violently between my ear drums—louder and louder as Jude neared his goal. "Stop," I pleaded, tears streaming down my face, "Stop this! You're killing me, Jude! _You are killing me!"_ There was no doubt in my mind that if Jude succeeded in raping me, the Vow would strike me dead.

He was deaf to my pleas. He fumbled with himself for a few moments, and I took the opportunity, when he relaxed his hold, to lock my knees together and cross my ankles against him. Growling in anger, his fingers dug into my thighs painfully, seeking entrance. I was stronger than him in this, and I rolled back and forth to dodge his grip.

Roaring his frustration, he grasped a fistful of my hair and jerked my head back, forcing my body to arch against his. "Why don't you make this easier on yourself? Give me a few ruts in that whore's cunt of yours, and I'll send you on your way."

I spat in his eyes. _"Go to hell!"_

His face went red. Releasing my wrists, he put both hands around my neck and squeezed, all his rage and dementia fueling his strength.

I clawed helplessly at his fingers around my throat, as the edges of my vision darkened. Was this better than dying from the Vow?

My body was at the threshold of death, but at last Jude released me, and I gasped for air greedily. My limbs were limp with exhaustion. All my energy depleted.

"That's better," Jude sneered, and I felt him hot and hard against my hip.

Desperately, in one last effort to save myself, I tried to scramble away from him. He gripped my hips and pulled me back beneath him, flipping me over abruptly. He leaned his weight on his hand at the back of my neck, which forced my face into the dirty mattress. His knees pinned down my own and effectively spread me open to him.

Lucius' ring dug painfully into the bone between my breasts.

I waited and sobbed my anger and fear and hate into the soiled bed. He bit my shoulder hard enough to draw blood, and I howled in pain. There was no fight left in me. I was weak against the overwhelming force of his body, and powerless without a wand to channel my magic. Remembering my lessons with Severus on non-verbal spells, I flung silent curses at him. _Avada Kedavra! Crucio! Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!_

_"STUPEFY!"_

At once, Jude's weight was flung off of me and crashed into a wall. Instinctively, I huddled into a ball on the bed, but peeked out after several long moments to see my rescuer. Lucius was there, crouched over Jude's limp form, beating his face with calculated, but still vicious, strokes.

"Lucius!" I gasped.

"Sweetheart." He left the incapacitated Jude on the floor and swept me up into a fierce embrace. Unclasping his coat in one smooth motion, he covered my body. With infinite tenderness he planted kisses in my hair.

"I'm here," he whispered. _"I'm here."_

:::

I lost consciousness then; my body shut down, completely depleted of energy. When I awoke again, it was in another unfamiliar room, on an unfamiliar bed. This time, however, a fire burned warmly in the fireplace and a house elf attended me, bringing water to my lips as soon as I stirred. Lucius lay slumped in chair on the other side of bed, as unkempt as I had ever seen him.

The bed sheets that swaddled my body were so warm and soothing that I almost slipped back into sleep, but I forced myself to wakefulness. "Lucius..." My voice was raspy despite the water I had just drank.

He jolted awake, eyes frantic until he saw me, and then he relaxed. With a soft smile, he gripped my hand. "You're safe."

"Thanks to you."

Lucius pursed his lips and hesitated before he spoke again. "This is a foolish question, but I feel the need to ask it. Are you in pain?"

"My throat and jaw the most."

"We have some medicine for that." He gestured to the house elf, who made her way to the side table to extract a bottle from several that littered the table top.

"I'd rather have a mirror."

He looked as though he would deny my request, and for several seconds I thought he would, but he nodded again at the house elf who left the room and returned a minute later with a small compact.

My chin quivered at the sight of my face, mottled darkly with emerging bruises-I would have a black eye in the morning-and my neck was already purple with the marks of _his_ fingers. The skin at my wrists and hands were torn from the rope. Slowly I pushed the bed sheet down past my neck. More dark bruises dotted the skin on my arms, stomach, hips and thighs, which also bore wide red welts from his finger nails prying at them.

To my shame, I shed tears at my appearance. I had never looked more broken in my life, even after Lucius willed me back from the dead, and never since.

Lucius jaw was tight and he shook with anger, as he inspected my body. "I could kill him."

"You didn't?" Partly in surprise, partly in relief.

He shook his head. "I wish I had, but too many people knew I was looking for him. It would be suspicious if he were found dead after I tore the castle apart searching for you two. Though I owe it to him, now," he added, gently caressing my face.

I ignored the last comment. "How _did_ you find me?"

"Rabastan came to me, nigh sick with worry. He said that you left him to talk with Slughorn over an hour ago, but when he saw Slughorn in the Great Hall at dinner, Slughorn claimed he never summoned you. Rab went down to the dungeons and said that a desk was turned over and there was blood on the floor."

"The bastard lured me back to the dungeons with an old note from Slughorn," I spat. "Jumped me before I realized what he was about. Merlin, he had thrown me against a table, and I asked him what he was doing. I was a fool to trust him."

"We scoured to castle looking for you. It was luck that Snape overheard a group of girls saying they couldn't find Ellison, either. Put two and two together. It was then that I roared my bit of foolishness that when I found Ellison I would rend him to pieces. In the Great Hall. During dinner." He smiled wryly.

"So you knew where to find Ju—Ellison?" I couldn't call him by his first name. He was an enemy now.

"No, but I was suddenly reminded that I had a way to find _you_." He tugged at the chain around my neck. "Malfoys have always been suspicious husbands. All Malfoy engagement rings are spelled with a location charm. I've had no cause to use it till today. I hope never to have to use it again."

There was catharsis and healing as we spoke of the events of the past several hours into the early morning. He joined me on the large bed, tucking me gently in front of him, his arms folding around me. It was strange. Lucius never appeared to me so human.

And falling asleep in his arms, I had never felt so safe.

:::

The official story was the ambassador's wild child stepson snuck out after curfew and caroused around London. There, drunk and unaware, he was ambushed, robbed, beaten, and left for dead behind a brothel in Knockturn Alley. The ambassador, ashamed, exiled said stepson to the Continent. The sordid tale even made page three of the Daily Prophet, complete with pictures of Ellison as a sweet young boy, and later pictures of him as a dissolute wastrel.

So convincing was the story that once heard, almost the entire student body and a majority of the staff vouched for its authenticity. "I could tell he was a good for nothing," they all said. "I just knew that he wasn't what he seemed."

The injuries I sustained in that Unfortunate Incident healed swiftly and without complications. Potions and salves made quick work of physical injuries that, though ugly, were not nearly as severe as my previous magical injuries. It did necessitate missing a few days of classes, however, which earned me a summons to the Headmaster's office.

"Miss Black, I hope you are feeling better?" he said as I sat down.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"The reason for this visit cannot be a mystery to you. When a student misses class on more than one occasion due to unexplained circumstances, questions arise."

I sniffed derisively. "They were not unexplained circumstances to me, Professor."

"Nor to myself, I assure you," he replied, surprising me. "I know and understand very well the events that transpire within these walls, Miss Black, and often those outside it. And this is where I must apologize to you. There have certain things that occur beyond my ability to stop or prevent. You have borne the brunt of most of those things this year. I truly am sorry."

I was stunned by his words. Several moments passed before I was able to respond. "I do not expect you to protect me from anything, Professor. We protect our own, and we mete out our own justice accordingly."

"It is the strength and failing of the Slytherin House, I think—this stubborn independence with which you rule yourselves. You never ask for help, at times to your own detriment. But you work with efficiency and ruthlessness. The situation with Mr. Ellison, for example." He leaned forward, radiating concern. "Child, had you come to me, I would have fought to bring the correct charges against him. What he did, regardless of the reason, should be punished. But now my hands are tied."

My laugh rang out bitterly in the silent office. "And my name brought low because what he did to me? No, I am satisfied with how events have played out."

Professor Dumbledore leaned back into his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "I am only surprised that Mr. Malfoy did not seek more dire consequences."

"There are certain agents who will be ensuring that Mr. Ellison will not be enjoying his stay on the Continent," I replied airily.

"Ah, I see. Well, then it is all worked out."

"What questions now can be left, Professor?"

"Just this: how long will you continue to tolerate his behavior toward you, Miss Black?" he asked, peering over his glasses at me meaningfully.

"What happened to me was _not_ Lucius' fault."

He smiled, a little sadly. It was a look I was accustomed to from him. "Not this time—not directly, at least. But that will not always be the case. What I have found, young lady, is that there are certain relationships one must escape, regardless of your feelings of the moment."

I stiffened at his words. "You already know the arrangement between the Blacks and the Malfoys. There is no escape now. Not for me."

"A dark time is coming, Miss Black," he told me, an eerie echo of what Lucius had said days before. "Please know that help can always be found here."

Professor Dumbledore, with his uncanny ability of truth knowing, eyed me curiously in the halls for days afterward, but never mentioned his offer again. Perhaps he knew that in my case, any action of his would not be the wisest course for those concerned.


End file.
